Onward, Ho! to Figaro
by Cain Porter
Summary: Chatper XIV: Terra travels to Figaro for a vacation. This is chiefly about the Figaro brothers, this is very much about Terra, this is a lot about coming to terms with the past, and also a bit about an uncertain future. EDIT: The story is complete.
1. Chapter I

**I. In Which A Series Of Filthy Entendres Preface The Central Action**

**ooo**

"Castle Figaro, huh? You know, if you wanted a _real_ trip, you should've asked me. I'd take you to the top of the world and we could watch the sun rise over the ocean."

Terra turned to give her chauffeur a skeptical smile. "I bet you say that to all the ladies who come aboard."

"I would if there were more of 'em." Setzer tapped lightly at the ship's wheel and it spun the rudders, making the Falcon dive gracefully over the eastern mountains. "But why Figaro? I mean, what made you look at the world's biggest desert and say 'What a great place for a vacation!'?"

"Well, when you say it like _that_..." she laughed, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. It was exhilarating to look down over the ocean and see all the places she knew reduced to tiny dots on a vast, glittering landscape.

"Seriously, though, why Figaro?"

"I became a Returner in the mountains of South Figaro. The first time I saw Kefka---I mean really saw him, with my own eyes---was outside the castle. We escaped that night into the desert. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen, just miles of stars and the hot sand." The memory was still fresh in her mind. It had been her first real adventure, and she could almost feel the adrenaline as she thought of the way she'd clung to her chocobo. Had that really been three years ago?

"Ah, so it's a sentimental value-type thing? Well, that makes more sense than actually liking that place." He saw her exasperated expression and shot her a grin. "Sorry, sorry. I guess I'm biased. I ran into a lotta trouble way back when Edgar wasn't about to let just anybody gamble with the king's money. They've never quite trusted me since, and I've figured it'd be best to stay away, you know?"

"I understand," she said. Setzer had always been that way; mysterious, a bit edgy, and never wholly open with his motives. She knew there was a time in his life when he had been forthright and carefree, but she also knew that time had long gone. He was older now, a little more mature and a lot more cynical. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the old (well, young) Setzer when he talked about the woman who had been both the beginning and ending of his youth.

_Daryl..._

_She must have been amazing._

"Now I know you're an adult," Setzer began, interrupting her thoughts, "but listen, babe. If Edgar so much as makes a move I want you to snap those royal fingers backwards and stick 'em where the sun don't shine, all right?"

"Setzer!" she cried indignantly, but she couldn't hold back a grin. "Setzer, he's not like that! Well, he is like that, but not with me, anyway. I'm not really his type."

"That's not true and you know it. I've seen him flirt with teenage girls, for crying out loud."

"Yes, but..." She didn't know how to adequately describe what she wanted to say. Of course Edgar had always spoken to her in that silky, effortlessly seductive voice that made everything entendré, but it wasn't as though there was anything serious behind it. It was just how he was.

She continued to muse over the king's odd romantic tendencies even as they landed. The last time she'd seen him he had been much less overt with his usual charm. Why? Was he depressed? Or was he just toning it down in preparation for a future queen who wouldn't be pleased with his conduct?

When Terra saw the King of Figaro standing at the airstrip she forgot about his puzzling behavior and began to wave enthusiastically. It had been so long! She couldn't wait to tell him about all the things they were doing in Mobliz, how she'd rotated the crops by herself, Duane and Katarin's second child---

"Hey, Edgar, my main man!" Setzer hollered over the roaring engine. "How's it goin'? I bet you wish you could trade this sandy hellhole for wings like mine!"

Edgar waited for the deafening propellers to settle down before responding. "That's a rather crude attempt at getting a decent place to sleep for once, you filthy gambler."

"Yeah, like I'd really prefer your roses and wine to cheap booze and old cotton." Setzer strode down the lowered gangplank with Terra in tow. "You couldn't buy that freedom with all the gold in Figaro."

"Couldn't buy that stench, either," Edgar commented, wrinkling his nose. "I believe your loss will be my maid's gain."

"I think you've got it the wrong way around," he said with a grin. "Here, as promised, is the Jewel of Mobliz. I offer you to her, Your Majesty, on the condition that you show her nothing less than the highest respect."

"_I_?" Edgar repeated mock-indignantly. "Oh, yes, I'm proven myself to be terribly unrefined. I understand your concerns."

Even though they were speaking about her, Terra felt like she was only peripherally involved. It was a silly back-and forth, a boys' game she couldn't play. "Well," she said, if only to remind them she was still there, "thanks, Setzer! I'll see you later."

"Yes, doll. And remember what I told you." He bent down to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye, Your Majesty. I'll see you on our next poker night, yes?"

"Poker night?" Terra exclaimed, now a little jealous. Edgar gently reached for her hand.

"Yes, poker night. A vulgar institution, really, but I'm always up for a few satisfying victories over his kind." The men shared a laugh as Setzer returned to his ship, again making Terra feel out of place. Everyone loved and protected her as their own little sister, and while it was nice, sometimes she just wanted to be one of the guys. She wanted to sit in the cabin of the Falcon and drink beers and tell jokes about what the women in Zozo could do with a banana and a Wing Edge, even if she didn't know what that meant.

That, she decided, was probably why she was so different in the first place. When she'd met Locke, she didn't even know her own name. The whole world had been new. Three years later, she was still catching up, and try as she might she couldn't quite get rid of all that wide-eyed naiveté.

Setzer had told her not to worry about it. "You never will. It's part of who you are," he'd said. "Besides, you're a great mom, a kick-ass Esper, and a world-saver. What else do you wanna be?"

_An adult_, she'd thought.

"Now I'm sure your trip was relatively pleasant, but I'm more than capable of making alternate arrangements for returning home," Edgar was saying. He motioned for a guard to open the castle doors. "If Setzer makes you uncomfortable at all, just say the word. He hasn't sought to take advantage of you, has he?"

Terra's jaw dropped. Was he serious, or was this just another part of their games? Did they plan these things out in advance, using the combined power of gambling and engineering to figure out how to confuse her most efficiently? "As a matter of fact, he hasn't," she said, uneasy at the thought, "and I don't think he will, either."

"As you wish. Now then. We were discussing what you could do while you're here, but eventually we decided that the best thing to do would be to let you explore for yourself. You always were the independent sort, after all."

"Who's 'we'?" she asked.

"Ah, yes..."

An enormous pair of arms seized her from behind and lifted her off the floor. Terra screamed and began to struggle furiously, but Edgar didn't even bat an eye. When she noticed his nonchalance, she looked down at the arms holding her captive. "Sabin!" she cried, lost somewhere between anger and amusement. "That's not fair! Don't do that! I was so scared..."

He roared with laughter and spun her around in a tight hug. "It's been a long time since I've heard you shriek like that. I was just wondering if you still remembered how."

"Maybe I don't want to remember how!" she protested, but his goofy grin was irresistible. He put her down and they shared a laugh.

"Some time ago he stopped by and I told him you'd be coming," Edgar interjected smoothly, and together the three of them headed for the guest quarters. "I imagine it's been some time since you've seen one another. Perhaps at the reunion last year?"

"Oh, no," Terra said. She felt a strange sense of glee at company with whom she could drink and not have to worry about bedtimes. "Sabin's nice enough to come visit me about once every three months."

Edgar arched a brow. "Is that so? For how long?"

"A week or two."

"Is that so," he said again, more an expression of wonder than an actual question. He turned to Sabin for an explanation.

"Well, sure! There's so much to get done," he said, and began talking excitedly and at length about the older childrens' new rooms, the playground, the crib, the trading outpost, the new furniture, and a hundred other odds and ends he was working on. Edgar said nothing but was annoyed at his brother's failure to pick up on the more subtle implications.

Terra mentioned she would prefer to wash up before dinner, so the twins left her at her room and went back to the keep. Edgar was silent for a long time, wondering how to best articulate his thoughts.

"Every three months?" he said at last.

"Huh?" Sabin had long since forgotten the context and was poking at one of the southeast windows.

Dismayed, he tried a different tack. "What brings you to Mobliz so often? It's quite a ways away from the rest of the world."

"Well, yeah, but like I said, there's just so much stuff to be done. Terra was having a hell of a time getting any workmen to come that far out, 'cause most of 'em wouldn't even hear of it and the ones who would asked for way more money than she had. Besides, those are growing kids. They really need it."

"It doesn't interfere with your training?"

"Are you kidding? Six hundred arm curls aren't even half of what it takes to build a new house. I tell you what, all martial artists oughta do construction work. It's the best exercise you can get without an opponent."

His enthusiasm genuinely pleased Edgar, who worried often about his future. Since the defeat of Kefka, Sabin had spent a sizable portion of time watching over Figaro. It was obvious he still felt guilty after all these years for having left Edgar on his own. As a result, Edgar ended up feeling even more guilty for inspiring that kind of selfless loyalty. Sabin was skilled and fiercely independent, yet he insisted on protecting his fully grown (and fully armed) brother.

He'd traded the throne for his own freedom, but he couldn't fully free himself. Was he learning to do that now? Edgar was so interested in this very personal development that he temporarily discarded his other line of questioning, and when Sabin asked about the proper engineering tools for mixing mortar he forgot it altogether.

**ooo**

"Another child?" Edgar repeated. "Was this another surprise, or were they wanting a sibling for Lucy?"

Terra stirred her vichyssoise thoughtfully. "Well, I certainly don't know that," she said with an innocent shrug. "She's not due for five more months, and they both seem pretty happy. I can really only wish them the best."

"How old are they now?"

"Mmm...Katarin just turned twenty in May, and I think she's about four weeks younger than Duane."

"Which brings the total number of your charges to...?" he prompted.

"Fourteen!" she said, beaming. "Well, sixteen, I suppose, if you count Duane and Katarin. But that's not fair, is it? They're only a few years younger than me, and now they have their own family." For an instant, she looked almost sad. "Even the littlest ones are grown up. When the world ended, children became adults...and adults became old men."

"Hey, hold on!" Sabin cried. "Who's an old man?"

Terra looked at him and the flecks of salad dressing on his chin. His high-spirited enthusiasm was ageless. "Definitely not you. You're a teenage boy in a bear's body."

"Nuh-_uh_," he said with a grin.

Edgar felt a knot in his stomach as they laughed. What was upsetting him, and why? He suddenly remembered what it was he'd wanted to ask earlier. Well. He'd just have to wait for an appropriate segue. _So why am I bothered?_

"I'm afraid I won't be available tomorrow morning," the king remarked. He made sure to sound more exasperated than disappointed. "I should see you at afternoon tea, of course, but it's not likely to be any time before then. I trust you're familiar enough with the castle to take care of yourself?"

"Yes, of course."

"Would you like someone to look after you?" Edgar used the extent of his telepathy to establish eye contact with Sabin, but the latter was shoveling forkfuls of baby spinach into his mouth. What do I have to do to make you pay attention for once in your life? He sighed. It's impossible to tell you anything when you're eating.

"No, no! I'll be all right. Besides, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to spend a little while..." She blushed, shy to admit even the most minute self-interest. "Um, you know. Relaxing. I-is that okay?"

"It's more than 'okay',_ tesuoro_, I insist upon nothing less. This is your vacation and you deserve the best I can provide."

Something about his speech was familiar, and Terra paused to place the resemblance. "Oh, yes!" she said at last. "Are you still dying to know if I'm your type?"

"No, but I've never stopped hoping that I'm yours." He lowered his head and gave her an inviting look. Unlike Celes, who required a subtle, wittier turn of phrase, Terra needed propositions in plain language or else they sailed right over her delicate little head. Not that she ever once even vaguely responded, but it was entertaining to watch her blush and stutter like a schoolgirl.

"Who's whose type?" Sabin wanted to know. Edgar remembered his brother hadn't been there when he first met Terra and recounted the story. Sabin ended up choking so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

"She," he gasped, thumping his chest, "she comes straight from the Empire, doesn't remember anything more than her own name...and you...and you..."

"Are you suggesting I would have had greater success with better timing?"

"I'm suggesting you're...you're something else. I mean, I've heard of taking advantage of somebody who's vulnerable, but...ha, I'm sorry..." He had a way of finding certain situations outrageously funny in a way no one else could quite grasp.

Sensing a weakness in the defenses, Edgar went in for another shot. "And when would you have tried it?"

"Tried what?"

Well. Absolute deflection at seventeen centimeters. Perhaps he really was mistaken; maybe he was just projecting more of his own romantic tendencies on a readily available subject. Still, he had never considered himself a suspicious man, and he rarely misread a situation. Would it be so imprudent to keep the potential in mind?

**ooo**

_It's been so long._

The guest suite Edgar had arranged for Terra was far more luxurious than the little room she'd shared with Locke almost three years ago. Besides the foyer and private kitchen, she had a closet outfitted with dresses and gowns in every color of the rainbow. _Thanks, Edgar._

She set down her bags and looked in the bathroom. An enormous porcelain bath had been outfitted with sachets of mineral salts, fragrance balms and..._rose petals?! You don't take a hint, do you?_ Of course, there was no reason why she couldn't take advantage of his generosity and enjoy a nice long bath alone. When was the last time she'd set aside some time for herself? Then again, when you had thirteen children to keep you occupied, you didn't have much time for anything that wasn't absolutely necessary.

Terra ran the water, smiling at the thought of her little charges. The tragedy of Mobliz would haunt them for the rest of their lives, and she wished with all her heart that it had never happened, but she didn't know where she'd be without them. They'd brought her so much comfort and hope, and most of all, love...

She slid into the tub. Castle Figaro had always had a special place in her heart. She could still remember the way Edgar had first kissed her hand, the stories Locke told about the Returners, and that wild nighttime escape on chocobo. Later it had served as a base for their group.

_It's good to be back._

Thirty gloriously relaxing minutes later, Terra stepped out of the bathtub and slid on a pink terry bathtowel. She wasn't even a day into her vacation and she already felt brand-new. Then again, springtime in Figaro was so beautiful. She liked to watch the sands crown their gnarling plants with wreaths of red and violet flowers.

Her intrigue led her out to the balcony, where she allowed herself to enjoy the evening sky. From what she could see, the entire side of the castle had little balconies staggered a few feet around one another. She could understand why; it was exhilarating to see miles of dunes and shifting sands from the comfort of of one's own room.

"Wonderful," she said softly. Somehow the dusty breeze soothed her. She rubbed her eyes and gazed down at the floor. It wouldn't be good for her back, but it was so tempting to just lie down and fall asleep under the desert moon. Well, maybe she could...

Terra sat down and stretched out on the silvery stone. She felt a shiver run down her spine. It reminded her of the countless days and nights they had spent wandering the world, huddled together in tents and eating food out of tin cans. As content as she was with the new peace, she also sort of missed those days. It was then that she'd met her first friends, and despite everything they had suffered, she had still been happy.

With a fond sigh she rolled over, closed her eyes, and tried to settle into a tranquil rest. She'd nearly succeeded when sounds like heavy footsteps cut through her misty sleep.

Thump---BAM! Thump thump thump---BAM! Thump thump---BAM! There was no precise pattern, but every few thuds were followed by a short silence, then a loud sound like the smashing of rock. Worse still, it seemed to be getting _closer..._

She looked up to see an enormous shape descending just above her head. Terra screamed. The shape screamed back. She rolled out of the way mere seconds before it landed hard against the floor.

"Urgh."

Terra stared. "S-Sabin? What are you doing?"

"I always do this exercise on Thursdays," he mumbled. It was hard to hear him with his face crushed flat into the ground. "What's your excuse?"

"I was going to sleep."

"Outside...and at nine o'clock?" he asked.

His incredulity seemed unfair. Sleeping outside, however early, was a lot more normal than jumping around from people's balconies at night. "I was tired!"

"Yeah, yeah," he said. Terra gasped as he slowly pulled himself up. "Eh?"

"You're hurt!" she cried, touching a hand to his forehead. She held it out and showed him the trickling blood on her fingers. "Quick, come in; I'll get you some ice and we can take care of this."

"What? Hey, come on. It's just a little cut." Sabin felt his forehead for himself. To his surprise, he was bleeding profusely. "Okay, so maybe it needs some peroxide. Nothing to stress about."

She was already at the kitchen sink, taking some cubes from the icebox and wrapping them in a hand towel. "I ought to have brought some extra supplies just in case. I guess I didn't really foresee anybody getting hurt..."

"Well, there's your problem!" Sabin stood up, entered the room and firmly shut the door behind him. "You should know there are always injuries when I'm around!" He laughed heartily.

Terra found herself laughing along with him. His humor was strangely contagious. "How could I forget? Now sit down so I can apply this."

He obediently sat down on the edge of her enormous four-poster bed. Terra sat beside him and held the makeshift sachet to his forehead. "I remember when we fixed things like this with Cure spells."

"Yeah..." He gently took the cloth from her. She was young, but so maternal. "Do you miss being able to use magic? Or is that not a big deal for you?"

She rose to her feet and headed back towards the kitchen, making Sabin wonder if it was too sensitive a subject. "Do I miss it?" she repeated. "It feels...different, more than anything else. I was always able to use magic, even when I didn't know what it was. When I found out, I felt like it gave me a connection to my father. For some reason, that was such a comfortable feeling, and every time I used magic it was almost as though I could feel his blood flowing through me. And now..."

"I know what you mean," he agreed.

Terra had been imagining he'd respond with interest or friendly concern, but not empathy. "You do?"

"Sure. My father...he was a statesman, a politician, a hero!" Sabin's voice rose with feverish intensity. "He was incredible, invincible! Everybody respected him! He was kind and just and fair and strong and stern and powerful and..." He trailed off and scratched his head. "Um, sorry."

She found his unabashed enthusiasm refreshing. "No, don't be. Go on."

"Well, I figured if I wanted to make my father proud, I had to be like him. Like Edgar. But I couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried. I wasn't smart enough, wasn't good enough. Sometimes I wondered if I was his son at all."

"Oh." She turned away, hands clasped. She had come to terms with her own feelings of crippling inadequacy with the children of Mobliz. What would I have done without them? "Um, Sabin," she ventured quietly, "you don't have to tell me, but... how did your father die?"

"He was poisoned, same as Mom."

It sounded strange to hear him use informal titles; even Edgar spoke of his parents as 'Father' and 'Mother'. Terra thought it was indicative of how much he must have adored them.

"I remember how warm it was that night," he continued. "The whole room was crowded with nurses and doctors and all the royal advisors. Edgar sat at the bed, just holding my father's hand. But I was pacing, raging, yelling at everything in sight."

"Why?"

"Everyone was begging him to name his successor, either me or Edgar. I remember thinking to myself, 'How can they do this? How can they worry about the future of Figaro?' As long as I can remember, I always thought Figaro was my father, and that there couldn't be one without him. But all these people were here at my father's deathbed, not because they loved him, not because they couldn't live without him, but because they wanted a king.

"I hated them. I hated them for sitting there and shouting about politics while Dad died, I hated the doctors for the way they just stood there with their heads bowed, and I hated Edgar when he told my father that it was going to be all right. 'You don't need to hold on any longer,' he said. 'Sabin and I will take care of Figaro. You can rest now.'

"I almost tore him apart. How could he tell our father that we didn't need him anymore? I shouted at Father to not listen to him, to please hang on no matter how much it hurt, but Edgar just sat there like a statue, and then... it was all over. Just like that. The nurses left, the advisors went away, and it was just the three of us in the room alone. Edgar didn't say anything, but I cried. I don't know for how long. I thought it was all so unfair. This was the greatest man that had ever lived and nobody knew it but us. I wanted angels, or an earthquake, or trumpets...any kind of sign that the world noticed he was gone. But nothing happened.

"Nothing happened, not even for a king."

_Is that all? That can't be all!_ Terra found herself wanting to hear more, only to realize she already knew how the story had ended: Edgar became king, and Sabin had forfeited the crown to pursue his training. She had known them before she knew their story. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered.

"Well, sure."

Terra bit down a giggle. Only Sabin could spill out the story of his deepest heartbreak in one breath and be cheerful in the next. "You know," she said, "sometimes I see my father. In dreams, that is."

"Oh yeah? What's he like?"

"Um, well, he looks just like he did when we would summon him. Only now I see him as he was in the land of the Espers. I think I'm seeing the past. I can feel the love he had for my mother and me and it's almost as though he isn't gone, just further away. Every now and then I wake up expecting him to be sitting right there beside me."

Sabin yawned. "What sort of things do you see?"

"Lots of things. My father would play an instrument, sort of like a harp, and my mother would sing. It sounded so beautiful. That song has always been with me, even when I didn't know where it was from. When I first saw them playing the song in my dream it was like the whole world was different.

"My mother couldn't cook, but my father could. He prepared all sorts of strange animals for himself and Mother and exotic plants for me. I don't remember how they tasted. Sometimes I try to imagine it all from my own eyes, but it's so hard.

"The Espers lived in a dangerous world. There were monsters all over their village. They could tame most of them, but there were others that ravaged crops and houses. Once my mother was attacked by one in the gardens and my father ripped it to shreds with his bare hands. The Espers were amazingly strong even without magic. They really were beasts. The ones we fought had all been drained by the Empire, and we never saw them when they were at full power. In my dreams I can see them as they used to be.

"I had a little mobile hung over my crib. It was made of ice crystals that never shattered and they twisted around each other like lace. Shiva gave it to my mother when I was born. On windy days, it would twirl around in little circles and I would reach for it.

"Did you ever have anything like that?" Terra paused. She had taken to staring at the ceiling as she spoke, and didn't notice Sabin lying flat on the bottom half of the bed. "Sabin?"

"Snrrrr..."

_Nine o'clock is early, huh?_ she thought. She didn't have the heart---or the strength---to wake him up, so she curled around a pillow at the front of the bed and dozed off into a satisfying sleep.


	2. Chapter II

**II. In Which Internal Monologues Are Expressed With Words, Which Is, In Fact, The Primary Means By Which Serious Thought Is Processed**

**ooo**

The first rule of performance is to make the impossible appear simple. Edgar Roni Figaro was a performer, albeit of an unusual calling: he valued his appearance just as highly as his political persona. It took well over an hour of daily maintenance to perfect his famous silky blond hair, flawless skin and pearly teeth.

He was working on the last of these as he always did in the early morning, brushing his teeth just before services. Between listening to Parliament go back and forth on the trade dispute and overseeing the banquet preparations, it was going to be a long day. Perhaps he could wheedle Sabin into testing all that back-ordered machinery in the dungeon...

Edgar briefly stepped out of the bathroom to make a request to this effect, only to find Sabin's room unoccupied. He wheeled around and walked into a wall of muscle.

"How convenient," he said, surprisingly coherent with a mouthful of toothpaste and a thin wooden brush. "Back from your run already?"

"Uh, no. I just got up."

"I see. I wanted to..." Edgar stopped short. He turned around to the empty bedroom, turned back to face Sabin, and turned around again. "Beg pardon?" he asked.

In that instant Sabin wished he didn't put so much stock in telling the truth. "I was visiting Terra."

"At dawn?!"

"No," he said, as though hurt by the suggestion that he would be so rude. Edgar absentmindedly dragged the brush over his teeth, awaiting clarification.

"I slept there."

Suddenly there were bristles down Edgar's throat and he collapsed choking onto the floor. Sabin grabbed him tight and gave him a hearty slap on the back, dislodging the offending toothbrush and perhaps a few vertebrae.

"Hey, hey! Take it easy, why don't you?"

"You _slept_ there?" Edgar gagged.

"I sorta came over there the other night, and we were talking, and it got late..." As much as Sabin felt his brother was overreacting, it had been a while since he'd gotten a good lecture. If he played his cards right he might be able to hear the "That's not how you treat women!" harangue.

Edgar sensed he was hoping for an explosion. Well, he wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. No, he was the _mature_ one here, damn it. He delicately put the toothbrush back in his mouth and resumed speaking as if he hadn't just been about to pass out. "I understand. I had forgotten you didn't have experience in these scenarios. In the future, know to excuse yourself politely as opposed to---to sleeping on the floor of a lady's bedroom."

Anyone else would've taken offense at the 'experience' jab, but Sabin had the double advantage of being perpetually mercurial and a little bit ignorant. "No, it wasn't like that. I just fell asleep on the bed."

The brush handle snapped in half and Edgar realized the King of Figaro was about to die the world's least dignified death. It was all over. No amount of shrewd maneuvering or machinery would save him. And now, in his last breaths, he wouldn't even be able to tell his brother how much he loved him. _Farewell, Sabin, I regret having to leave the kingdom on your shoulders...be a good and honest ruler..._

"Brother!" Sabin cried. He slammed Edgar into the wall hard enough to realign his previously malajusted bones and the halves of the toothbrush were spat pitifully onto the floor. This time Edgar let them stay there.

"Get ahold of yourself!" Sabin's chiseled face was creased with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," he coughed. Then, looking at his brother with a vague distaste, "Is there anything else you've neglected to tell me? You know, murders committed, children you've fathered, any other equally trivial things?"

"Edgar!"

"Well, forgive me for not being more indifferent to your _sleeping with women_!"

"I didn't _sleep _with _anyone_!" His roar rattled doors up and down the hallway. The servants who had been peering around the corners disappeared.

Sabin felt his anger evaporate as he recognized he'd been shouting at his own brother. Why was he so upset? Come to think of it, why was the old unflappable, impenetrable Edgar on edge? "I..." he said, then felt his cheeks go hot with shame. "I mean, I just fell asleep there. It wasn't, I didn't...wouldn't ever..."

"I know that," Edgar murmured. He knew there was no excuse for having said such outrageous things, especially when Sabin prided himself on his virtue. He had wounded him, deeply, and all because of..._what?_

"Don't disapprove of me." It sounded more like a plea than a command. "I know I can't be around as much as I used to, but things haven't changed. I'm still me. I wouldn't do anything you didn't like, I promise."

_It shouldn't matter what I like, _Edgar wanted to say, only to discover it mattered more than anything else in the world. He'd spent the last three years trying to make up for a decade of lost time between them. Now it was though everything had changed and Edgar felt as though he'd been left out of it all.

_Of course Sabin's had so much trouble living his own life..._

_...I haven't been able to let him go._

He was so lost in thought he didn't notice Sabin bent over him, waving a hand in his face. "Hey! Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm quite all right, thank you." He pushed him away with a slight shove, if only to alleviate the sudden pangs at his conscience. "Now then. Will you be in the chapel for services, or...?"

"Nah, I was gonna change clothes and go run. I'll see you around for tea, though. That's about as much ceremony as I can take in one day, you know?"

"Indeed." Edgar tried to apologize, found he couldn't, and so dismissed the whole notion with a would-be casual wave. " 'Till then, _irminho._"

**ooo**

Sabin was glad to be out of the castle, even if he was only a stone's throw from the west courtyard. Some days it seemed like the building itself reeked of mistrust and underhandedness.

Maybe that explained why Edgar had been so harsh with him. Or it could be that he was just stressed from work. Hell, anything was easier to believe than the idea of Edgar really thinking he was...

He forced himself to not think about it. No, it was just stress. It didn't mean anything.

The first bell tolled, signaling the start of morning services. Sabin could picture the rows of novice monks coming in with their silver-lined capes and thick candles. Thirteen years ago he had been there, hoping his dedication to the order would be the first step towards a life of freedom.

"Freedom? You mean nonstop training and spiritual conditioning is freedom? And I thought my future was going to be difficult," Edgar had laughed. The twins were invariably the first out of the chapel; Matron's sabbath-day lunches were the best part of the weekends.

Of course Sabin didn't believe it and Edgar didn't either; they both knew that the future king would suffocate under the responsibility. Their father had hinted at their having the final say in Figaro's future, an idea neither of them could bear. They knew what happened to families who tried to share the throne. No amount of promises, no matter how significant, could stop them from fearing a life dominated by power.

The first hymn went up, bringing more old memories to the surface as he broke into a steady run. He could still recite all of his vows.

_I give myself to prayer, fraternity and force of life beyond the boundaries of man..._

Help everyone everywhere. That ethic had come in handy when the world was collapsing. So many people had clung to him and sobbed thanks into his shoulder for little things like rebuilding houses or helping people in need. Hell, in Albrook alone more than five couples had sworn to name their next sons after him.

_...my only riches will be Yours in heaven..._

Boy, the parliament had had a field day with that one. How could he intend to be king with no sense of "princely necessities"? Sabin had never cared much for gaudy ribbons, ermine cloaks and dazzling jewelry. It wasn't as though he had anything against his brother's tastes, but he didn't see any need for it. An old tunic was fine.

_...my strength reconciled to the defense of Your own..._

He jumped a series of irrigation ditches without so much as getting splashed. Martial arts was well and good, but it was all a means to an end. He fought to protect anyone, everyone in need. There was no point in being strong for his own sake. And who had room for an ego with Edgar around?

_...my life consistent and without excess..._

It wasn't the traditional monk's renunciation of physical pleasure. Master Duncan, himself a married man, didn't think it necessary. "Why forbid it?" he would say. "The evil is not the wine, but the lack of self-discipline. We should rejoice with righteousness in the gifts from our Lord. Now two hundred more pushups!"

_...and my heart aligned with Your will._

More than a decade later he still didn't understand how could anybody know what the divine wanted. No two priests had ever offered the same answer. The best Sabin could manage was to do all the good work he could, try not to think of his own wishes and hope he wasn't screwing up too much.

_...In te, Domine, speravi: non confundar in aeternum._

If he had to pick a single sentence to define his entire life's experience, it would be that one.

**ooo**

Terra awoke to the clamor of seventeen iron church bells playing "Abide By Me" in five-part harmony. She held both hands over her ears and winced. Somewhere over the years a household of screaming children had become less like noise than actual music.

She stood up, stretched, and glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall. _Three o'clock already?! It can't be! _She spent a few minutes groping around for her dress before she remembered she was still wearing it. Had she really fallen asleep without changing? _ Oh...right. Sabin came in, and..._

_He probably left before the sun came up. _Terra crossed to the closet, hoping for something to wear for the time being. The whole alcove was filled with skirts, boots, gowns and blouses more beautiful than anything she'd ever owned. To her amazement, the first one was precisely her size...as was the second...and the third, and the fourth...

"Oh, Edgar," she breathed, then began to laugh in spite of her astonishment. He really was something else. She hoped history would memorialize him for his extravagant eccentricity as much as his dedication to his country. "Edgar, you're magnificent!"In a fit of childish excitement she began pulling at everything she could find.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Terra sang.

"Good morning, dear. His Majesty bid me bring you an early lunch, so..." Matron paused at the sight of her young guest. "Miss?"

Terra had on a button-up shirt, a sundress, thick patterened sandals and a floppy straw hat, all of which clashed horribly. Her smile was even more blinding than her wild disregard for fashion. "Is it really morning? I saw the clock---"

"I'm sorry, that old thing's been broken for years. It's about eleven-thirty. Is there anything I can do for you, miss?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm not sure what to do today, but I'm sure I'll find something." Her upbeat attitude was miles away from the hesitant confusion of the girl who had come to Figaro Castle three years ago. Matron had sat with her then, brushing out the tangles in her milkweed-colored hair and telling her not to fear the future. Well, the future had come, and it had been good to her. She looked like a different person.

_...of course, it could be the clothes. _"You know," Matron said, speaking in the elderly person way that made the most basic things sound like timeless folk wisdom, "we do have an herb garden in the west courtyard, and we're in the middle of the second harvest. If there's anything you'd like pressed and dried I'd be more than happy to get it for you."

"Don't do that! Let me help, please! We have a plot at home, but so much of the soil is still too diseased to nourish the plants..." Terra clasped her hands together eagerly. "Please, could I?"

It was a pity more young women these days weren't interested in gardening. "Yes, of course," she said. "Come down whenever you're ready."

Apparently the prospect of gardening was more exciting than a good hot meal, because within minutes Terra was up to her elbows in silt. The other working maids watched her and her ridiculous hat with fascination. One of the older girls had nearly summoned the courage to talk to her when a looming shadow in the distance made her turn back to work. Terra was too engrossed in picking out the asefetida to notice.

"Terra?"

"Hm?" She glanced over her shoulder at the most massive legs she'd ever seen. "Oh, hi, Sabin!"

"You look great," he said, because she did. It was hard to deny the magic power of a big hat. "Couldn't stand to sit around on idle hands, huh?"

"Mm-hmm. Look at it all! I'd take some seeds back with me if I could, but I bet a lot of it wouldn't grow. Say, this here..." She waved the foul-smelling asefetida at him. "I've been trying to get some in the window planter for months now. How do you get it so big?"

He squatted down beside her. "It needs soil in the sand and a good hot climate. I don't think you'll have much luck in Mobliz."

Her shoulders slumped at the thought, then straightened up again. "Since when do you know so much about plants?"

"Hey, come on! I spent a decade up in the mountains around here. Besides, I'm an authority on anything I can eat." His sage nod made Terra laugh out loud. "Want to look for some stuff we can grow, though?"

And so they whiled away the next few hours in the garden, setting aside what could be transplanted and throwing out the trash. Sabin was familiar with even the smallest blossoms and most obscure clusters.

"What's that?" Terra asked. She poked at the tips of a thorny green bush with spear-shaped blooms.

"It's gherkin top. Edgar uses it to prevent headaches. We oughta bring some in." The flowers were added to the growing pile of rosemary, allspice, cinnamon and bay leaves. When they were finally done, they grabbed their harvest in handfuls and went in search of the king.

**ooo**

"He's in _session_?" Sabin gaped. "But it's the summer! And a weekend! You can't be serious!"

The guard at the chamber doors was apparently very serious and didn't appreciate the assertion to the contrary, but he wasn't about to talk back to someone more than twice his size. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but Parliament has demanded a meeting in regards to the emissary from Jidoor."

"Can we sit in the gallery, then?"

"I'm afraid not. Classified information." Then, almost begging, "Please don't hurt me, Your Highness."

Sabin's expression indicated that while he hadn't considered it before, it was now looking like a very real option. He wasn't fond of the assumption that his strength made him some kind of killing machine. "Don't worry about it," he muttered.

They left together, disappointed in having missed a prime opportunity to bug Edgar, but Terra was curious. "Who's coming from Jidoor and why is it such a big deal? Do you know?"

"Remember that fat old windbag Owzer? His sister's got even more influence than he does, and she has a granddaughter they wanna get married off. They've been down Edgar's throat for months about setting something up. The ambassador's coming in a few days to give him an ultimatum. It could be pretty rough."

The idea of Edgar finally settling down and marrying made Terra's heart wobble. That, more than anything else that happened in the future, would change things forever. Would he still be able to hold those wonderful yearly reunions that ended in eight empty barrels of wine and Cyan berating himself for behaving in such a dishonorable manner? "What's...what's this potential bride like?" she asked.

"Eh, nothing special. Around twelve or thirteen. Not real smart, but what matters is the huge dowry she's got goin' for her. Plus all the revenue Figaro would get by owning all the trade routes down there. It's a good deal. Edgar isn't thrilled about it, though. I don't blame him." Sabin recalled how violently his brother had protested and he chuckled. "He wants to compare all the offers he's gotten before making a decision, but Owzer and his sister won't hear of it. They want a decision right now."

"Oh." She felt strangely sick. _Edgar, married?_ "Um, I'm not feeling too good. Maybe I'd better lie down." She tottered back to her room before he could say anything else, and she could vaguely hear him saying "Well, sure. See you at dinner, then?" as if from a very far distance.

_Edgar, married?_

Maybe she was all wrong. Maybe she wasn't ready to be an adult, to have everything change. The thought of one of her oldest friends suddenly _married_---the fundamental opposite to the way he'd lived his whole life---it hurt, somehow. It wasn't right to think that he'd have this change thrust on him when he didn't even want it.

She went to lie down when the clock tolled a quarter-hour six times in a row. Terra frowned. In a moment of impulse she decided to fix it on her own. Anything was better than just sitting here with that awful refrain in her head. _Edgar, married? Edgar, married? Edgar, married?_

Terra opened the dial glass. The least she could do was set the hands properly. She pushed at the minute hand, but it didn't budge. She pushed again, to no avail. In a fit of frustration she grabbed at it with both hands and yanked down.

The clock chimed, whirred, and promptly disappeared into the ground. A narrow passage appeared in the wall where the clock had been.

Terra stared.

_What are you waiting for?_ she wondered. It wasn't really her own thought, or even her own voice. Locke was the first person she ever remembered meeting, and as such he'd probably had a disproportionate influence on her instincts. She could just hear him goading her on to check it out. _What do you suppose is back there? _he was saying, pleading with his big brown eyes._ I bet it's interesting! Come on, at least take a look!_

_If I get in trouble for this it's _so_ your fault_, Terra thought, but the Locke in her imagination had gotten distracted by something shiny and wasn't paying attention.

The passage was little more than a musty staircase carved in the walls. Terra was just barely able to stand upright. She kept her hands along the sides, content to wander wherever the path would take her.

After a long stretch of aimless meandering she heard a knot of angry male voices. She leaned against the cool stone and listened closely.

"Is that the only protest we have? We can't afford to be so stubborn!"

"Lord Holyoke, I don't know why you insist on taking such a defeatist attitude..."

"What are our alternatives?"

"I don't believe anyone can honestly say this is the best choice of action for Figaro!"

"If you stopped to consider the nation's role as an international player for once as opposed to demanding we become a bunch of God-damned isolationists you'd learn that---"

Terra never found out what was going to be learned. Something thin caught under her foot and she tripped, falling hard to the ground. _Ouch. What is that?_

There was no light, but she could feel a familiar honeycombed texture under her fingers as she touched it. It was about a foot long with misshapen knobs on either end. It was spongy and lightweight, like...

_Bone!_ She dropped it, startled, then chastised herself for being so squeamish. Was it really? It had a few holes in it that didn't seem right. Terra turned it over a few times. The holes were almost evenly-spaced, too. _What is this...?_ Uplifted by her treasure, she took it in hand and began the slow process of slinking back out of the passageway.

**ooo**

"Can anybody tell me what this is?" Terra set the bone down on the side table. The kithcne servers gasped, disgusted by of what could be human remains being set down on an dining surface. Edgar gasped, mortified at the idea of their being corpses just lying around in plain view. Sabin gasped too, but he recognized it.

"Where did you find that? That used to be mine!" He picked it up. "Man, I haven't seen this thing in so long."

"It's yours? Yes, of course. It's old and and primitive and likely diseased; it must be yours." Edgar shuddered. "Care to explain?"

"A long time ago...I must've been about ten or eleven. Vargas and I were outside, playing with a deer we'd killed, and he got the idea of making a flute out of it. So we drilled a bunch of holes and tried to make it all smooth, and then we went upstairs, up in the northeast secret passage behind the clock, and sat around playing it over the session room. We tried to see how loud we could go before anybody downstairs noticed, and then finally..."

"Was that the time when Father boxed your ears so hard you had to wear a bandage for three days?"

"Two and a half," Sabin corrected haughtily.

A young maid entered with a tray of hot teas, and immediately the room smelled of hickory smoke and old leather. She set the cups down on the table, nervously avoiding the spot where the bone had been, and left. As soon as she was gone Edgar let out a perfectly unkingly retch.

"You still drink that?"

"It's good!"

"It smells like a slaughterhouse."

"That would be _your_ tea. Do you know what that is?" Sabin leaned over in his armchair to Terra, who always wanted a front row seat when the two of them were squabbling. He lowered his voice to a would-be conspiratorial undertone. "He asks for four tablespoons of pure valerian root. That's enough to knock out a cow!"

"First of all, it's not a problem when you drink slowly," Edgar shot back, sounding irritable, "and secondly, you would require a sedative too if you spent your weekend dealing with a room full of spoiled manchildren who would rather obstruct genuine progress than concede a point to their rivals."

"Oh, sure. Justify your drug problem, why don't you."

"_Speaking_ of undue immaturity..."

Terra took one of the cups and lifted it to her lips. It tasted odd. She'd asked for puerh, which Edgar praised so highly. It wasn't quite as sweet as she'd expected, but the single sip sent a series of warm tingles down her spine. She continued to drink, soaking up the pleasant feeling as the boys battled it out.

"You know, I think the reason you haven't gotten married is because you wouldn't be able to share the bathroom with anybody else."

"That suggestion is as obtuse as it is nonsensical."

"What I'm _saying_ is that the sink would be cluttered with jewelry and silk scarves and makeup and gleaming buttons. And where would your wife put her stuff?"

"Har har. Yes, I avoid matrimony purely out of personal vanity. Congratulations on your keen insight into the political issues surrounding arranged marriage."

"You're not denying it."

"Brother dearest, if I denied everything you said that was so incredibly wrong as to warp the current scientific understanding of what 'wrong' means we would never leave our rooms."

" 'Cause God knows you've never been wrong. Like that one time you said we would never have to go to evening lecture again if only we could find a bunch of purple paint and a goat?"

"Youthful indiscretion."

"Yeah, that _I _got spanked for."

"If you hadn't been standing there and looking dumbstruck---"

"You told me to!"

"---and, as you said, if you'd recognized that even I am capable of error---"

"Don't even try." Not willing to admit defeat, but certainly ready for a change in subject, Sabin took one of the other teacups. Edgar, following his lead, took his, and they shared a rare interlude of complete brotherly harmony as they drank.

"Ugh!" Edgar spat. "This is yours."

"No kidding."

They hastily traded cups.

"No, this still isn't mine, this is puerh."

"But this is my lapsang souchong, which means..." They turned to Terra, who had fallen asleep in her chair. An empty cup of valerian root tea lay in her lap.

They smiled, embarrassed at their own inattention and touched by the innocence she seemed to exude. Sabin took the cup away and lifted her over his mighty shoulder, holding her around the knees. "We're both to blame for that one, huh?"

"Sabin Rene Figaro. What have I told you about treating women like sacks of potatoes?"

"They don't boil as well if there's no salt in the water?"

Edgar gawked. It might have come off as less frightening if Sabin wasn't so...well, big. "Don't ever say that again."

"Right, right. Anyway, I'll take her off to bed and be right back."

"You've got no excuse to stay there this time!" the king called after him. In retrospect the whole idea was funny more than anything else. Never having been one to waste quality tea, he finished the rest of the puerh.

On the other hand, Sabin's was going straight into the trash.

**ooo**

It could be hard to get the younger maids in the castle to actually do what they were asked. They tended to be lazy with their chores, unless it meant stopping into the king's chambers, in which case they tore each other's hair out for the chance. Sabin considered himself lucky to find three girls who were willing to help out.

They followed behind him, heads bowed in the traditional fashion, but he could hear them whispering amongst themselves about the girl draped over his back. _Well, whatever. Let them do that. They're fourteen. _But when they were just to the guest suite, he overheard the word "drunk" and felt a surge of indignation.

"She's _not_ drunk," he snapped, whirling around so fast Terra's head banged hard into the bedroom door. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit, is she all right?" He shifted her under his arm so that he was cradling her like a small child. "Okay, no injuries. Anyway..." Sabin turned back to the maids, who looked at him in terror. "Give her a bath and some comfortable clothes, then put her to bed, okay? She's not drunk, just drugged. She drank Edgar's tea by mistake. And let that be a lesson to you!" he said, feeling a responsibility to not come off as an unthinking brute to a bunch of gossipy adolescents. "Don't drink Edgar's tea! Especially not if he gives it to you!"

He gently lowered Terra down and into the ready hands of the girls, who seemed to think they were taking her away from a grave danger. _Gee, thanks a lot. _He sighed and headed back to the lounge. Maybe he'd get a chance to ask his brother just what he was planning to do about his marriage, and if there was any truth to those rumors that he had his eye on a woman with no noble blood at all.


	3. Chapter III

**III. In Which Things Change, Things Are Slated To Change, and Things Have Change Unwillingly Affected Upon Them**

**ooo**

"It's not enough to have power. Where is your speed? You shouldn't be taking half as long!" Duncan bellowed. The twinkle in his eye belied any real anger. "Get up here! And for God's sake, cut your hair. That thing's getting dangerously close to a mullet."

"Yes, I'm coming." Sabin struggled up to where his master stood on the plateau. Something was weighing down on him, dragging him back, and it grew heavier at every step. "Yes," he wheezed again.

"Don't _answer_ me, you fool! Just climb!"

He finally pulled himself up onto the flat stretch of grass, doubling over on his knees. "Master, I...there's something I have to tell you..."

The older man had turned his back to him and was now looking out as the sun set over Mount Koltz. "Hm? What is it?"

Sabin opened his arms, letting Vargas's battered corpse fall to the ground. He was overwhelmed by the acrid stench of blood, hot and bitter and stomach-churning.

"I killed your son."

Duncan disappeared and the mountains melted into darkness. Sabin reached out for something, anything, but the whole world fell away and he was left tumbling through a void that ended in a tangle of bedsheets.

_Vargas..._

Sighing, Sabin settled back onto the mattress. He glanced over at the little flute on the nightstand, and in that instant he could see Vargas polishing the edges with his shirttail.

_You were my best friend. No, only friend. We were too busy training to do much of the regular kid stuff. _As he looked at the flute he felt compelled to smash it to pieces. No, that wouldn't solve anything. Better to let it stand as what it was, a memory from another time, when the two of them "practiced" by rampaging through the castle.

_I wasn't going to do it, not even when you turned on Master. I just wanted to stop you._

Sounds and images flashed through his head. A girl's yelling, two men shouting for help. And one of the men was...

_You were going to kill my brother._

_I didn't have a choice._

The clock pointed to five past two. _What a way to wake up_. Sabin rolled over. How to get back to sleep? He shut his eyes and thought of pancakes. Delicious pancakes with fresh-tapped maple syrup, yes, that was it. That would be great. Soon he drifted off into a contended rest. Pancakes, syrup, and his mother's song...

_Mother_? Yes, that was her song, the flowy madrigal about the beautiful lady who died and left her lover desolate. The servants said the queen sang it day in and day out, to friends, courtiers, even her unborn sons. After she died the old king would sing it, and it was through him that Sabin had learned the words himself.

It had such a beautiful beginning. The twins would sit at their father's feet, listening to him as he sang of ladies on a spring day. Then the lyrics became cold and the melody was jarring, and that was usually when his father's voice began to break. "Why do you have to keep singing?" Sabin would ask. "Can't you just stop there?"

"And leave it unfinished?" the king would always answer, furrowing his brows. "You can't omit parts just because you don't like them. Every story deserves to be told in full."

"Even that sad ones?"

"Especially the sad ones."

_But I don't like sad things_, he'd thought.

Again he felt the haze lifting and Sabin stirred. Judging by the light that streamed in through the window, it was now well past dawn, but he could still hear his mother singing "_zefiro, zefiro, torna..._" He was content to just enjoy the song until it belatedly occurred to him that his mother had been dead for twenty-nine years.

Was he still dreaming? There was no time for questions when he could hear her, sounding so light and airy and full of hope. He sprang out of bed, not bothering to put on a robe, and followed the song up to the grand balcony.

"That's it, dear," Matron was saying. She held a stack of yellowed parchments in her wrinkled hands. "It's pretty, isn't it? There are more than fifty here that haven't been touched in decades. If you find one you really like, you can have it."

Terra stood beside her, reading off a small songbook. She paused just before the last sestet. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that! These are heirlooms, aren't they?"

"Yes, but they're certainly not doing any good shut up in an old storage box. Please, take them." She turned over her shoulder to look at Sabin as though she expected him to be there. "Good morning, Your Highness."

"Matron..."

"Sabin?" Terra drew back, embarrassed. Had he been listening? "Oh, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." She wanted to go on, but his flat expression made her stop. "I should go," she said feebly. Sabin made no attempt to stop or even recognize her. Startled and a little hurt, she put down the songbook and disappeared down the stairs.

Matron tilted her head at him. "I didn't raise you to ignore company."

"Why did you teach her that song?" he demanded.

"Why shouldn't I?" Before he could interrupt, she went on. "Is that how you want to honor your mother's memory, keeping it under lock and key? There's no one left to carry her song; Lord knows you boys don't like to talk about your past."

"Yes, but---"

"I'm eighty-seven, dear. What will you do when I'm gone? Is that going to be the end of me, or are you going to tell all your grandchildren about how I could pinch harder than any vice? Your mother loved you so much. The least you could do is make sure she isn't forgotten."

Sabin realized she was right. "Yeah," he mumbled, jamming his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. I've just been..." He didn't want to talk about the strange and painful dreams that had moved him so deeply. "Thinking about a lot of things, I guess. More serious than the usual stuff."

"I'm not offended, Your Highness. I know you too well for that." It was no mystery between them how he could be a grown prince and a "dear" rough-and-tumble boy at the same time. "But what about your guest?"

"Terra, you mean?" He scratched his head. That was pretty rude, wasn't it? Then again, she never got mad about anything except for peanut butter on the walls. "I wasn't trying to blow her off or anything. I just couldn't stop thinking of Mother."

His single-mindedness made the old woman smile. Sabin was easily distracted, but when he was set on something it took an act of God to make him stop. "You should start thinking of something good to say, then."

"Yeah." He usually told the truth, no matter how absurd, but would he be able to say _Sorry, I thought you were the mother I never knew_? "Any ideas?"

"...what about that shipment of yours?"

**ooo**

It took some effort to find Terra, who had since wandered all the way to the laundry room. She didn't look angry to see him; if anything, she was noticeably glad. "Hey! Um, about this morning. I shouldn't have been singing so loud."

"Yes, you should have. You're not half-bad, and it's a good song." Maybe someday he'd be able to tell her just what it meant to him...someday, but not yet.

"Say, uh," Sabin started, spurred on by her interest, "I have something you might like." Ugh. What was he, a drug peddler? "Wait. I mean, like a special surprise. For you." That was even worse. "From me." _Why am I still talking?!? _"Wanna see it?"

Fortunately, she seemed so piqued by the idea as to not notice his babbling. "Of course!"

_I guess he isn't angry, then_, she thought, following his short ponytail as it bobbed up and down. Sometimes it was hard to know what Sabin was thinking; if he didn't immediately say what he felt, there was no way to know. He would often sit alone, arms folded and looking serious, then without warning declare that he'd finally found a word that rhymed with "orange".

As they walked, Terra felt a powerful urge to grab at the little tuft of straw-colored hair and give it a tug. Just as she was reaching out Sabin flung himself over one of the dungeon doors, arms outstretched.

"You can't look, okay?" he said carefully.

The idea of a surprise made her unduly giddy. What could it be? More importantly, why had he decided to get her a gift in the first place? She happily clapped both hands over her eyes.

Sabin grinned. It was easy to be generous with someone who was so childishly cute. "Here we go." He unlocked the door and threw it open. "All right, there it is. What do you think?"

Terra was so excited she forgot about her hands over her eyes and walked straight into the wall. Sabin gently steered her towards the room, wondering what it was about the two of them that resulted in so many head injuries.

The first thing Terra saw was lumber. Planks and boards were heaped to the ceiling. Huge bags of plasterboard had been set in the corners. Chisels, drills and hammers hung from hooks on the walls.

She looked over at the first stack of wood and counted the pieces. To her amazement, there were exactly seventy-five 2x12s. "But," she stammered, "these...how?"

"When that company sent back your order, I kept the receipt." He had intended to go visit the offices in Jidoor and straighten out some bigwigs, but it hadn't been necessary. "I thought the next time I was out there I would try to do what I could."

Terra could already see the shelves and cabinets, the new living room, Duane and Katarin's home, the guardhouse, and everything else she'd been wanting for so long. She could finally begin give the children some of the things they needed.

"Where did you get all this?" she asked, struggling to hold down the lump in her throat.

Sabin became very quiet. "I know a really rich guy," he deadpanned.

The lump gave way to mirth and she laughed out loud. "You...you're a..." She grabbed around his neck in a happy hug, holding him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank youuu..."

_What a nut. _Sabin ruffled her hair. "Don't mention it. That's what friends do, you know."

" 'Friends'?" she repeated, enraptured by her visions of a brand-new furniture parade. "No, friends love and help each other. You build houses, fix pipes, do laundry---"

"---wrestle seven-year-old boys---"

"That too. But 'friend' doesn't seem like enough for somebody who does so much." Terra poked around the far reaches of her vocabulary for a more suitable term, finding things like "companion" and "confidante" insufficient, but after a minute she stumbled across a possibility so bewildering she almost fell over.

Sabin must have come to the same conclusion, because he quickly spun around and cleared his throat. Terra sprang backwards, mortified.

"Why, here you are!" Edgar stood in the doorway, oblivious to the utter interpersonal upheaval that had just taken place. "Good afternoon, Terra. I imagine you slept well?"

The diversion came as such a relief that she wasted no time in running to him and throwing herself into his unsuspecting arms. "Oh, _Edgar_! Thank you so much for all this!"

He examined her closely for the source of such an unusual emotional outburst. "That's very sweet of you, but my contribution is circumstantial at best. I had the supplies on hand and Sabin reimbursed me in full. Surely you agree he deserves the most of your thanks, yes?"

"I..." she faltered. Sabin mumbled something about it not being necessary. "I think I left something upstairs!" she cried, and fled from the room.

Edgar watched this turn of events in perplexed silence. He opened his mouth and shut it again several times. It was well over a minute before he was able to speak.

"Context, please?"

"It's nothing," Sabin said dully.

"Thank you kindly," Edgar snapped, feeling the same pang of jealousy at having missed such a deliciously awkward instant in his brother's life. "I suppose you're not obligated to tell me anything, no matter how much good counsel I would undoubtedly be able to provide. I'll leave as you'd like and go back to brokering my married life."

"Don't be like that. I'm, uh..." Sabin sighed. If he told Edgar he'd just end up in the doghouse again. "Trust me. I've got it under control"

**ooo**

The rest of the day went by in an agitated blur. Terra tried to read a book and failed, picked up some embroidery but kept pricking her finger, and finally took a wrench to the broken clock when it dared to strike one o'clock for the ninth time. She declined dinner, not willing to risk another confrontation.

That evening she lay in bed with the sheets pulled up high. The whole room seemed tense, as though every portrait and piece of furniture was waiting for her to do something. She didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry.

_'Friend' doesn't seem like enough for somebody who does so much._

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did she have to say that? Why couldn't she just say she was thankful and leave it be? Why had she had to jeopardize their whole friendship just because she wasn't good with words? It would be wrong to give Sabin the impression that she felt...that she was in love or anything like that. But _he_ hadn't thought that, had he? And if it was just a misunderstanding, why did she feel so guilty?

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. (_I can't!_) Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. (_but what was I thinking?_) Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. (_is he mad at me? I'm the worst!_)

At this rate there was no point. She kicked the sheets aside and sleepily got up out of bed. It was well past midnight, but she might as well try.

The corridors seemed tall and hollow. Terra clutched her shoulders, wishing she'd brought a robe. The desert was supposed to be hot! Worse yet, every breath and step echoed around her. She felt like a little girl, lonely and scared of the dark. The castle seemed like a completely different place without the constant hustle and bustle of serving staff.

She took a deep breath and tapped on the chamber door. When no one responded, she hesitantly put forth an "Edgar?"

"Terra? Is that you?"

Well, he was awake. There was no going back now. "Yes. Can I come in?"

"Of course."

She pushed open the door. To her surprise, it was even colder here than the chilly hallways. He sat at his desk, read over what looked like legal briefs by candlelight. Terra stood there in her paper-thin pink chemise and felt foolish.

"By all means, make yourself comfortable," he said, rising. "To what do I owe this very, _very_ welcome pleasure?"

"I, ah...are you still working?"

"Of course. A king's work doesn't end at night." Edgar could tell she wasn't ready to talk just yet, so he decided to soften her up with some idle chatter. "I've spent two hours and three minutes weighing my chances on this marriage deal, half of them shirtless, and things are just as difficult as when I started. I'm meeting with my future prospects in a few days, and the lovely Lady Coppelia just informed me she needs to stay in Nikeah with her ailing father. That makes a hundred headaches for me and fifty more hoops to jump through. Delightful, isn't it?"

"Do you know who you plan to marry?" Terra asked, intrigued by this new subject.

"No, no, that hasn't been settled yet. It's all a matter of who provides the best advantages, of course."

"Yes, but..." That didn't seem to be the right way to talk about everlasting love and devotion. "Which of them would you _like_ to marry?"

"My dear, 'like' isn't a relevant question. I have to admit I was quite interested in meeting Coppelia; she sends her letters with the most marvelously ingenious word puzzles, but that has no influence on the final decision. Then again, Parliament's affection for her is absolutely essential. They are legally obligated to draft an approval of any future queen."

"Edgar!" She temporarily forgot about trying to be more mature, too seized by the enormity of this injustice. "That...that's not fair!"

He looked up at her from his desk with sincere surprise. "Unfair? I live at the greatest expense with the finest accommodations in the world. I am wealthy and privileged beyond any sense of reason. Surely you'd expect there to be a price to pay?"

"But you didn't ask for any of that!" It wasn't right that someone who had given up his own life wouldn't even get to choose who he married. "All that was thrust on you, and it's not right that you've got to...to do what they say just because it's the law!"

"Your concern is worth more than any love," he said gallantly, and in the flickering candlelight she saw the face of an old man. Edgar was just thirty, but without the beige paste and crushed safflower petals Terra could see just how much his work had aged him. The first wrinkles around his lips and forehead were nothing compared to the fatigue in his eyes. She had never seem him so _tired_ before. The world was wearing him down.

Suddenly she understood why Edgar was so charming and debonair. He must've known that he would never be able to marry at his own discretion. He would never have the freedom to love one woman, so instead he loved them all.

Terra cried, unable to hold back tears at the sheer wretchedness of his situation, a wrong no amount of fighting would ever be able to correct. It hurt to think that stopping Kefka hadn't solved all their problems, and it hurt more to be helpless. Edgar sat down next to her with a benign smile and she buried her head in his lap.

"You...you gave yourself up...you didn't want Sabin to live like this..."

"Of course. I wouldn't wish for anyone to live this way."

"But it was for his sake! How could you do that?" Even now, with fourteen children at her side, there was still so much about love she didn't understand. She couldn't identify with great romantics, lifelong friends, and especially not siblings. What was it like to love someone from the very beginning? "How can you...how can you care for him so much?"

He gently took her by the chin and wiped away few stray tears. "Come now, _querida_. I think you know the answer to that."

**ooo**

She had poured her heart out to him, explaining it all and only occasionally interjecting to berate herself for ruining everything. Edgar had listened attentively. She was in luck, he said; Sabin was probably just coming back from his late-night workout, and if she hurried she could bring him the towel the maids always brought to his room. That should be a suitable opportunity to "make things right again", as she had put it.

So again Terra found herself outside a royal bedroom, and again she was terribly apprehensive about the whole thing, and again she briefly considered running away. At last she summoned the courage to knock.

"Oh, hey, thanks!" The door opened and she prepared for the worst. The worst didn't come, just Sabin, half-naked and confused. "Terra?"

"Um..." If she didn't say it now, would she ever? "This is for you," she said, holding out the towel, "and I want to talk!"

He couldn't argue with that. "Yeah, sure. Come on in."

Maybe it was all the shadows, or even her imagination, but she gaped at how literally gigantic he was. His biceps were the size of her thighs. _Has he always been this big? _She was so distracted she nearly forgot what she had come to do. "What I said, I...I didn't mean it. That is, I meant it, but I didn't say it right, and it came out like---"

"No worries. I'm a monk, remember?"

His nonchalance was encouraging. "Right, and I'm a mother, so that wouldn't happen anyways."

"Right."

Though they couldn't possibly know it, in that moment they had the same stab of doubt:

_Who am I trying to convince?_

"You know," Sabin said, waiting for his brain to reassure him that everything was back to normal, "I've going down to South Figaro tomorrow to pick up some things Edgar ordered. Do you want to come along? It's only about an hour's walk."

"I remember." They'd made the trip more times than she could count. "I'd...I'd like that. That would be fun. When do you want to leave?"

"Eh, I'll come get you sometime before lunch. Does that sound all right?"

"Yes, yes it does," she said emphatically. "I'll see you then!" Terra was so relieved she could have hugged him again, but quashed the idea. They exchanged pleasant goodbyes and she went back to her suite with a sense of real satisfaction. Oh, Edgar was as wise as he was handsome, and Sabin was so nice about everything. She couldn't ask for better friends.

"Terra?"

Edgar stood outside her door. At first she thought he wanted a rundown of events, but his bearing made it clear he had a more serious purpose in mind.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling her heart pound. Why wasn't he saying anything?

His eyes glittered. "I have a proposition for you."


	4. Chapter IV

**IV. In Which People Promptly Forget What They Have Promised Themselves And Save Everyone Involved Sizable Quantities of Confusion**

**ooo**

Terra hadn't expected to feel so refreshed after such a short night's sleep, but she woke up ready to run all the way down to South Figaro if she had to. A few kind words had done more for her than any real rest.

She leapt back into the closet for another wardrobe raid, looking for something slightly more coordinated (but only slightly). To her disappointment, the floppy hat was gone, but she found a suitably folksy-looking bonnet.

_Today is going to be a great day._

What was it about talking that made it all good again? Why did people naturally want to be alone when a single conversation could fix everything? She'd spend the morning downtown, then come back to the castle to talk with Edgar to finish making their arrangements.

"Hey, are you awake?" She could hear Sabin outside the door. He sounded just as gung-ho as she felt. Terra raced to the door and flung it open.

"Let's go!"

"What is it with you and hats?" he grinned.

"Hats make me happy," she declared, not knowing it was true until that moment. "So we're off!"

Together they raced down the stairs, and all the servants who saw them marveled at their eagerness. Even the castle's greatest celebrations were held with dignity and restraint, but here were two people being so outrageously exuberant over running errands.

Edgar was waiting for them at the front gates. He held a thick envelope with the royal seal stamped firmly over the back. "I suppose you'll be taking a meal in town?"

"Uh, yeah," Sabin said absentmindedly, taking the envelope. "If that's all right with you, Terra?"

"Of course." Salmon and capers was all well and good, but she was really looking forward to tomatoes on wheat toast.

"Then by all means, I won't keep you." Edgar signaled for the guards to break rank, and as Sabin and Terra set out for the southwest he couldn't help but feel like a father watching his children go out to play. Perhaps he should've packed sandwiches.

He briefly recalled his own childhood, when even then there had been an obvious distinction between the two of them. Edgar would be paraded around like a precious jewel, passed from one admiring relative to another, while Sabin would pretend to be a bear and go around biting unsuspecting adults in the leg.

Matron hobbled up to him and he instinctively took her by the arm. It was a pity she hadn't married, any grandchildren of hers would be worth more than all of Figaro. "You should warn me in advance before you approach like that, you know. Your beauty is absolutely breathtaking."

She just shook her head at him. "You don't ever intend to stop, do you?"

"Never. What's the occasion?"

"I've been sent to tell you that the Countess Marcellina has set out from the northen territories, so you should be expecting her tomorrow morning. I haven't heard from Owzer and his family..."

"They go out of their way to be fashionably late, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't show up till the day of the banquet. Has there been any word from the others?"

"The delegation from Albrook claims to be en route, but they've been saying that for almost two days now. I don't know whether they're delaying or actually being delayed."

"Probably the former. Thank you, Matron. Could I persuade your grace for a spot of lunch before we attend to the wolves? I imagine they have a few questions about that announcement I put out yesterday, and I could use all the extra nourishment I can get."

"Why, no, Your Majesty, I'm afraid you're just going to have to starve. Now, really! I've been taking care of you since before you can walk. Why are you so apologetic about asking me to do my own job?"

He flashed her his most infamous smile, the one that charmed the corsets off the ladies and made the less staid men weak in the knees. Matron was unfazed, having seen it more times than she could count.

"I do hope your future bride is strong enough to hold her own against you and your looks."

"Nonsense, my good lady. The instant any woman realizes the extent of the power she holds over me I'm as helpless as a newborn." He gave a theatrical sigh to emphasize the sad fate of his poor tender heart, and Matron couldn't help but pray that the new queen of Figaro would have a high tolerance for drama.

**ooo**

The shifting dunes made Terra feel as though the world was moving under her feet. She shut her eyes to keep out the intermittent storms of dust, checking only to make sure she hadn't wandered off.

Sabin must have noticed because he deftly stepped in front of her, blocking most of the rising sand. "Just stay close behind, all right?"

She noticed the gusts that blew around her forehead were just up to his midsection. _He's so useful! Oops, that's not very nice. _"Thanks!"

"Sure thing."

In this slow but steady manner they made their way through the desert's steepest slopes. Terra realized that despite her best efforts she was watching the bob of his ponytail again. Unlike Edgar's hair, which was perpetually brushed, tied and off-limits (Setzer and Locke had scars to attest to how seriously the king treated his coiffure), Sabin's was ragged and unruly. He would go for months without so much as a shave because it simply didn't occur to him to cut it.

Her motherly instincts decided he could use a quarter-inch trim. The next time he came to Mobliz she'd strap him to the dining room chair if she had to.

It wasn't easy to hold conversation in single file, but now having guaranteed that everything between them was completely normal and not different at all they felt free to talk even more than usual.

"So what are we going to pick up?"

"Just clothes, I think. Edgar always orders a lot before a big formal event. Whatever else we need is in this letter here. There might be some other last-minute supplies he wants, too."

"Do you think he bought something for himself?"

"Definitely. The tailor in town makes his favorite shirts. He won't buy them anywhere else."

"What about you?"

Sabin usually made himself scarce at the mere mention of court ceremony, but he wanted to a good look at any potential sisters-in-law. Still, the very idea of spending an hour getting dressed made his skin crawl. "Yeah, I guess so. I haven't gone to one of these things in ages. I doubt any of my old stuff even fits."

Terra tried to put Edgar and Sabin together into a hulking, good-natured mass of well-groomed masculinity. It didn't work. "Will you be there for the whole dinner and the meeting afterwards?"

"I'd planned to. Why?"

"Because..." She thought of everything Edgar had told her the previous night. Would it be easier or harder to have Sabin there watching? "Um, it's nothing. It just seemed kind of boring to me."

"Oh, there's no denying that. What, you plan to skip out? I could catch up with you after the meeting if you want."

_I can't, Edgar and I are going to---_But she'd also promised him to not say a word to anyone, not even Sabin. "No, I thought I'd stay too," she said. Her heart sank in her chest and she hoped he wouldn't ask any questions.

By the time they reached South Figaro Terra's hunger had eclipsed her worry. The sight of the corner delicatessen made her jump. "Sabin! Sabin, what were you thinking about doing for lunch?"

"Food," he said valiantly. Then, following her gaze, "Did you want to go there? It's a nice place, it's fine with me."

"Yes, let's!"

Although the deli was well-stocked, and Sabin easily polished off an entire cornish game hen, Terra was overjoyed at her piece of toast with its single tomato slice. The cooks had been perplexed by her request, but nobody had any reason to deny her something so simple. Sabin figured that somewhere during their travels she'd tried to make a sandwich on her own and the end result was her unusual creation. She had a knack for getting things almost-but-not-quite-right when she first tried them; the inn at Narshe still had water damage as a testament to her early confusion with faucets.

Five years later, she was a grown woman, and those lingering touches of early ignorance had given her a peculiar allure (it sure was nice to be able to think about someone like that and know it didn't mean anything). She was a parent, a mother, and an equal, even if she didn't quite understand what a "window of opportunity" was.

After lunch they went off to the tailor's, eager to see what Edgar had ordered. The clerk recognized Sabin immediately and went to the back room, calling, "His Royal Highness is here! Bring out the boxes!"

"His Royal Highness'?" Terra repeated. "Isn't that...isn't that Edgar's title?"

Sabin growled, but he was more annoyed than upset. "It's mine. I'm the heir apparent until he's got a kid of his own." He kicked at the ground. "Selfish, isn't it? I don't have to do anything anymore, and I'm still bitter about it. Meanwhile, my brother's locked up back there and he doesn't say a word."

"That isn't..."

The clerk returned with an armful of dress boxes. "Excuse me, Your Highness, and permit me to apologize for not having welcomed you with the necessary respect and honor deserving of someone so high a station. His Majesty paid ahead of time. Should you be able to accept a departure of my person for a brief period of time I will most gladly fetch the rest of your order."

"Yeah, thanks." Sabin moved to take the boxes, but the clerk motioned for him to wait.

"No, Your Highness, this is base work. Allow me." Within minutes the whole countertop was piled high with clothes with no sign of stopping.

"How much did he _order_?" Sabin ripped open the sealed envelope. There were two letters inside. One appeared to be a standard order form, while the other was a handwritten note:

_Please present this receipt of delivery to the tailor after verifying the contents of the packages._

Sabin glanced from the boxes to the letter to the boxes again. "That's going to take ages!" he fumed, as if Edgar could hear him. He continued to read:

_I _know_ it's going to take ages. Ask Terra to help. Oh, and do bring her back home at your earliest convenience. You, of course, have the freedom to wander as the unwashed heathen you are. _

_- ERF_

And people said there was no magic left in the world.

Terra had opened the ends of one box and was peeking inside. "Wow, this is beautiful. It looks comfortable, too. I'd like to wear something like this."

Sabin looked for himself. To his horror, the royal seal of Figaro was emblazoned on the front. "That's a maid's dress!" he cried.

"Is that bad?"

"If it means what I think it does, then he ordered dresses for all the maids in the castle. We'll be here forever." He opened the delivery receipt to see just what they would be bringing back. "He can't be...this is...three hundred and nineteen articles of clothing?!" he roared, having skipped to the bottom line.

Terra was barely visible behind all the stacks. "Um, I don't think we're going to be able to carry all of these."

"His Majesty has ordered a drawn cart to bring the wares home. Of course we'll provide an escort with the cart, as we feel it our responsibility to assure your utmost comfort."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." Sabin couldn't bear the clerk's overly fawning language any longer. "Instead of going over all this, why don't we just assume that everything's here, and if it's not I'll come back and deal with it myself. We'll drive the cart home and I'll bring it back. Understood?"

The clerk gulped, not wanting to know just what it meant when Sabin René Figaro dealt with something. "I assure you everything is as it should be, Your Highness. I'll bring the cart around so I can set to work, so if you and your esteemed lady would excuse me..."

"We can load it ourselves---"

"Who's anybody's lady?" Terra wanted to know, slightly insulted by the idea that she belonged to anyone other than herself.

But the unfortunate clerk had already raced outside. He hollered at the workers to move and wailed that the prince's wrath would be on all their heads if they failed. In his desperation he forgot to lower his voice, so he could be heard clearly from inside the shop.

"Go faster, you filthy wretches! Surely you know His Royal Highness could beat us all within an inch of our lives using his bare hands!"

Terra saw Sabin's shoulders slump and she cringed. "Um, Sabin," she said, fidgeting with her fingers, "I...I think some of my hair is caught. Could you...?"

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity.

"Okay," he said at last, moving to untangle the bonnet strings. He deftly undid the knot with a swift roll of his fingertips and separated her hair as gently as strands of silk. Terra knew he was as dextrous as he was powerful. She'd seen him break bones and set them, just the same way she could wield a double-handed sword and an embroidery needle. _If I hadn't met people willing to look beyond what they saw in me, I'd still be the Red Witch of the Empire. _

Having untangled the snarl, he put the bonnet back on and secured it with a ribbon tie under her chin. "Is that better?"

"It's just right. Thank you."

Sabin was so disoriented by her little act of kindness that when it came time to leave he forgot to duck and ended up hitting his head on the door frame. He didn't even notice the workers avoiding him as they loaded up the cart.

"And you, ah, you're sure you don't want an escort, Your Highness?"

"Positive." What was all that stuff? Where was he? Oh yeah, he was in South Figaro to help Edgar get...something...for something. "I'll, uh, I'll bring this back myself."

"Yes, you did say that," the clerk said, frightened with his sudden disinterest. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

The chocobo squawked and Terra took the reins. "I think that'll be all," she said. "Thank you for everything! Sabin, do you want to sit up here or walk? I won't go very fast."

Did he remember how to do that? "I...I'll walk. Walking is fine."

**ooo**

Terra's stressful evening eventually took its toll, because she quickly nodded off behind the chocobo. Sabin didn't have the heart to wake her up and just plodded alongside them, immersed in thought.

_How does she know to be so considerate? _Were all moms that way? No, it couldn't be that; she had been unfailingly kind from the beginning. Still, the gesture and its message (_I know who you really are)_ was comforting in the face of so many strangers who saw nothing more than an overgrown brute.

Did she feel that way too? There were certainly people still living who had seen her devastation firsthand. Did she think everyone who met her saw a tool of the Empire?

_Thanks for remembering who I am, Terra._

By the time they arrived back at the castle she was stirring again, rubbing her eyes and moving around in the saddle. "Oh, did I...? I'm sorry..."

"Not a problem. I'll bring this home and come on back in time for dinner."

The very mention of the word filled her with anxiety. "Actually, Edgar and I were going to...I mean, if it's okay with you, we just have to talk about some things, and..."

"Sure, that's fine!" he assured, completely free of suspicion or even curiosity. If Terra said she was having dinner with Edgar, that was more than enough for him. His utter lack of guile was so endearing. _I'm sorry I can't tell you the truth, not yet. _"Have a good trip back, okay?"

Edgar appeared at the gates to oversee the castle workers unloading the cart. "Well, then. Did you have a pleasant trip? I hope it was suitably relaxing, as we've got quite a bit of work to do."

"Yes, it was nice. Sabin's going to take back the cart." Terra swiftly dismounted without the help of Edgar's outstretched hand. "Is there a place you wanted to start, or...?"

"The dining room will be more than adequate. Please, come along. Have a safe trip, Sabin."

The younger brother just waved agreeably, jumped onto the cart and seized the reins. "You guys take care of yourselves. I'll be back whenever, so don't wait up."

Just once before he died Edgar would like to say those words in that exact indifferent tone of voice, to brush past all the senators and lords in the world with a lazy "don't wait up". The mere idea gave him chills.

They set off for the dining room, now with their arms linked in the proper western fashion. "I know you're a marveously independent young woman, but you've got to accede to tradition if you don't want them to raise unnecessary questions. We can't allow them to be down our throats about protocol _and_ politics."

"Is there anything I shouldn't do?" she asked.

"My dear, there are so many things you shouldn't do that we're going to work our way from the ground up. If I don't permit it outright you can assume it's forbidden."

"What if I mess up?"

"You won't, I promise. All it takes is a very determined will and careful attention to detail. We have several days to prepare, which will be just enough time if we work at every available opportunity."

Planning, scheming, and a grand performance: it was like the old days all over again. She was nervous, but how could she fear anything with Edgar at her side? He wouldn't let her stumble. _Every available opportunity..._ "And I still can't tell?"

"Not a word. In fact, the less said about yourself at all, the better. There are more than one hundred servants in this castle, and if so much as one of them overhears you we'll have a lot of explaining to do. It would be best if you simply didn't..." He saw the look on her face. "I'm so sorry. If you don't wish to---"

Terra shook her head firmly. "No, Edgar. I'm going to do this. It's the least I can do. I want..." She clung to his sleeve to convince him of her sincerity. "I want to make you happy."

"_Pássara..._" He smiled, but there was a sad compassion in his eyes.

When they reached the dining room he sat her at the head of the table and went to the wine cabinet. Terra shifted in the chair, wanting to stretch her legs after having been seated for so long.

"How does a '32 _Quiphs jolf_ sound to you? It's perfect for those nights you'd rather not remember."

"I don't drink very much." She was reminded of Edgar and Setzer's talk of their card nights. Was not drinking another sign of her immaturity? Should she pick up drinking? How was she supposed to do that with a household of rowdy children? She quickly dismissed the notion. "That is, except for when you hold those reunion parties."

"Ah yes. I'll provide ample quantities of water, but it wouldn't do to raise any eyebrows about drinking etiquette. After, all, each course must begin with wine. Do you think you can handle one glass for the occasion?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Very well then. Let's begin."

**ooo**

Together they passed the days in constant company, only leaving for sleep and meals. At times Terra felt her head would burst from the sheer amount of effort. Now she understood why Edgar looked so tired. Meanwhile, the castle welcomed the arriving ambassadors and their ladies. If there had been a buzz about the king's impending marriage before, it was now at fever pitch.

The day of the banquet she woke up sweating. Why had she agreed to do something so drastic and daring? She had to find Edgar and tell him to call the whole thing off, that she couldn't go through with it, but he was nowhere to be found. He was probably off assuring all the visiting dignitaries of his intentions, fighting down last-minute measures in Parliament, and overlooking decor in the Great Hall. _I'm trapped! What am I going to do? I can't do this!_

Terra's resolve wavered further when she saw Sabin that afternoon. He was holding a pair of white knee-length boots in both hands and shuddering in disgust. It took all her self-control to not run to him and confess everything. "Ah, Sabin..."

He looked so glad to see her she could have cried. "Oh, hi! It's been a little while, hasn't it? You've been pretty busy."

"I'm looking for Edgar. Do you know where he is?"

"Well, actually..." He led her to the king's room and pushed in without so much as a knock on the door. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

"Truly beautiful."

Terra blinked. Then, from farther down in the chamber, the same voice spoke again with the same affectionate murmur: "Yes, of course...more lovely than you? No, never..."

"Sabin!" Terra whispered, shocked. "Sabin, there's---there's a _woman_ in here!"

"No, there's not."

"But then...?"

"He's in the bathroom, and that's a mirror. Say, shouldn't you be getting ready?"

_Right._ The dress Edgar had arranged for her to wear had been waiting in the corner of her room, modeled by a tailor's mannequin. The night before Terra had dreamt of the bodice flying out and throttling her. "That's true. I'll see you at dinner, then?"

"If it makes you feel any better," and he leaned all the way down to look directly at her, "I'm going to be wearing a purple satin tie."

"It does," she laughed. For the first time that day she felt some confidence. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. She'd have Edgar to steady her and Sabin for moral support. It couldn't possibly be harder than making dinner for babies, teething toddlers, children _and_ adults.

The first omen that she was very wrong came while being fitted into her dress. Terra had always been slender, but the maids tugging at the back of her corset and saying "a bit tighter, miss!" made her wonder. The thick hoop skirt was so heavily weighted and unruly she lost her balance just trying to sit down. She inwardly screamed every time the maids brought her a new article of clothing, and they just kept coming.

"Your gloves, miss!"

"Your bracelets, miss!"

"Your earrings, miss!"

"Your tiara, miss!" No matter how she protested, they insisted every single piece was entirely necessary. It came as a strange relief when they draped the golden Figaro seal around her neck.

She spent several minutes tottering back and forth across her room for practice. The tiara had seemed heavy at first, but the seal alone was three pounds. When the trumpet heralded the call to banquet, Terra let one of the maids support her for the first few yards and all the staircases. She wasn't sure if she'd live to trip down a flight of stairs in her current outfit.

Terra reached the first-level foyer and nearly keeled over. Just around the corner she could hear the king and his guests sitting down around the front table. Soon she would be there, at his cue, and everything would..._How can I do this? I can't! I can't! Someone help me!_

_No_. This was no time to panic. She envisioned Edgar as she'd seen him that night, aging and sorrowful. How could she not be strong for his sake, after all the times he'd sacrificed so much for the people he loved? _I don't need help. I'm coming, Edgar. I'm going to be there with you. _She leaned closely against the wall to listen in for her cue.

"...and so you've accepted?"

"As a matter of fact, I have not. Our most recent round of negotiations were hardly stellar."

"Then what does Your Majesty propose? We have made promises far beyond our means. The Lady Francesca has no objections."

"I assure you, Countess Genevive has a much more---"

"In terms of magnitude---"

"---providing more for a---"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Edgar said disapprovingly. "I expect you to afford one another the same respect you provide me. And, if you _must_ know, I have found a bride-to-be whose wealth and influence far exceeds any of your offers." He went on despite the shouts and gasps of indignation. "If I may..."

Terra took a last deep breath and stepped out into the banquet hall.


	5. Chapter V

**V. In Which One Evening Contains Enough High Drama To Sustain An Entire Chapter Of Non-Events**

**ooo**

Sabin tugged on the end of his blouse. Why had his brother insisted on such ridiculous clothes? It was true the country's traditional white robes could look a bit feminine (especially on Edgar, who had always been touchy about that), but Eastern jackets and breeches were so..._itchy. _He couldn't wait to change.

The contesting ladies and their patrons were taking their seats at the head table. As crown prince, Sabin was given a prime spot, but he had declined. He wasn't willing to spend two hours with his every movement under intense scrutinization. No, better to watch from the gallery and be able to go about as he liked. He also didn't want the burden of having to keep a straight face in the midst of a bunch of overstuffed windbags.

Edgar took his place, leaving the chair to his right unoccupied. "You know, Owzer," he said, "I must say your resolution has impressed me. I can tell you have the highest designs for your grandniece."

The flabby old man gave him a gap-toothed smile. "Only the best will do, Your Majesty. So you've accepted?"

"As a matter of fact, I have not. Our most recent round of negotiations were hardly stellar." He sat back, waiting for the excited chatter to die down. A full minute later, when there were no signs of stopping, he waved his hands in exasperation. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! I expect you to afford one another the same respect you provide me. And, if you must know, I have found a bride-to-be whose wealth and influence far exceeds any of your offers."

_He has? _Sabin was too surprised to speak, but he was pretty sure he felt the same shock as the scandalized nobles.

"If I may..." the king continued. The high-arched doors to the foyer opened and Terra came out, almost unrecognizable under layers of tulle and crimson velvet. Sabin did a double-take, too dumbfounded to believe.

Edgar pulled out the chair beside him and sat her down. "Allow me to introduce the Lady Coppelia of Nikeah. She is not aristocratic by birth, but by merit. She and her father are the sole operators of the Parallel Trading Company."

"A working woman?" Owzer spat derisively. "That's rather...uncouth, don't you think?"

"Perhaps she does lack the natural advantages that comes from years of high breeding," Edgar said, his tone suggesting that he didn't think there were any, "but Lady Coppelia's worth is beyond compare. You present me with money and material goods; she will bring Figaro complete control of the northern basin."

The fury around the table was palpable. "That's preposterous!" one said. Others bellowed things like "impossible!" and "insane!", and others still hurled insults at the small woman at Edgar's side. Terra opened her mouth and spoke in a voice that was not her own.

"My father and I are very keen to break the southern monopoly on sea trade. His Majesty will be given two-thirds of the Parallel's commercial profits, as well as seven percent of the annual interest from imported goods."

"Figaro has no place profiting off of other nations' private commerce!" someone protested.

Edgar frowned. "Tzen didn't wait to embrace the benefits of private commerce when Jidoor erected the traveler's gates."

"That..." The man's cheeks went pink with fury. "That was a necessary measure for generating revenue! We were within our rights as dictated by international emergency provisions. Your Majesty, you insult me by suggesting our efforts to make end meets are in any way comparable to a capable, developed nation on the verge of becoming a second Em---" He could tell he was dangerously close to crossing the line. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said humbly. "I may have spoken out of turn."

"There is no 'may' about it, your intent is very clear. However, don't you think you're selling yourself short? You did volunteer a notable amount of resources to the demolition of Doma castle. Would a province so strapped for cash have the ability to be so charitable?"

_Demolition? _Terra wanted to ask questions, but the dreaded grown-up inside her was already explaining away. Of course it would be demolished. The poison had long since made the ground untenable, and the surrounding kingdom had disappeared in the apocalyptic earthquakes. Their thousand-year civilization had been destroyed in less than half a decade.

_Why are they getting rid of Doma Castle? Does Cyan know? _Not only was he the last of his people, but the last remnants of his home would be gone. Without Cyan, there would be no one or nothing left to prove Doma had ever existed.

The debate had continued outside her brooding. "...signed into law? I thought there were regulations barring arrangements that..."

"...doesn't inspire any faith in my investments..."

"...then why not absolve Parliament? If _this_ is legal..."

"...her ability as the future queen..."

All of it faded away to background noise. She would have drifted off indefinitely if the first course hadn't arrived. Maids came out of the kitchen with plates of meat pies, serving both the honored guests and spectators alike. Terra was about to take a bite when Owzer, still angry at this reversal of events, snapped, "I heard your father was on his deathbed, Lady Coppelia. Does he know you're cavorting around with kings in his last hours?"

Terra gaped. How to respond? In a split second she had to summon righteous indignation, impeccable composure and the lady's sharp wit. "My father treasures my future over his own life," she said, holding her chin high. Maybe they would misinterpret her terrified shaking as barely constrained rage. "An alliance with Figaro would greatly benefit our company. This is a business transaction, above all."

"Indeed," Edgar said, giving her a nod from over the rim of his wineglass. Her hard work had paid off. "And, like any business transaction, I will thoroughly consider all viable options. It simply happens that Lady Coppelia has made the most powerful case."

Sabin observed the performance from the top of the gallery with growing admiration. After so many years, his brother was still the most amazing person he'd ever met. How had he been able to teach her so much in such a short time? Meanwhile, seeing Terra hold her own against people twice her age and ten times as devious made him grin. This, he decided, was a show best viewed up close. Sabin snuck an extra meat pie and went down to survey the scene from the ground level.

The majority of dinner was uneventful. Terra only drank the smallest amounts and bought time between interrogations by eating as much as she could. Edgar drove a hard bargain, but less than a quarter-hour into the entreé he'd talked the emissary from Tzen into waiving their rights to Figaro's irrigation technology. Soon they were all striving to outdo each other's generosity. Everyone was willing to raise the stakes when the most valuable throne on earth was about to be snatched up.

"You know, Your Majesty," the Duke Lindoro began, fiddling with one of the many ribbons pinned to his jacket, "we've been considering making the east end of the Serpent Road into a government-operated port of call for some time now. The building contract is yours if you'd like."

"That won't be---" Edgar tried to interrupt, but it was too late. Terra had just remembered what lay at the east end of that stretch of land. "You can't!" she cried. "People live there! It's a village!"

The duke laughed. "My lady, a single family hardly constitutes a 'village'. If your misgivings are chiefly humanitarian in nature, I assure you everyone involved can be safely relocated. Thamasa will pay their every expense."

"That's not right!" she protested, suddenly no more than a penniless mother in very fancy clothes. Edgar had told her to not display an iota of personal compassion, but she didn't care. _My home, my home, they can't---my home..._They couldn't do this, not when she'd worked so hard to make her own place in the world. "But...my family!" she choked, fighting back tears.

All the politicians exchanged puzzled glances, not realizing the elaborately constructed charade was about to come crashing down. Lindoro leaned forward in his chair. "Why, but surely you know that as a claimant to the throne you're legally required to give up any residential property."

The rest joined in with the appearance of soothing her while seeking to exploit this unexpected weakness. "If those people are squatting on your soil, it won't be much trouble to remove them, will it?"

"Nonetheless, that area belongs to the Lady Coppelia. It cannot be surveyed for sale unless the marriage is finalized." Even in sight of of impending disaster Edgar's calm was unfailing. "In the meantime, I must ask you delay any further work on the proposed construction. I cannot allow for any potential intimidation." Although no one dared to challenge him, the damage had been done.

Terra's panic gave way to shame. The night's objective had been twofold---to create an illusionary arrangement that would let Edgar stall before making a commitment, and to create more international opportunities for Figaro. Because of her outburst, the diplomats no longer had any regard for her or her dowry, and Edgar came off as a man of poor taste.

The urge to cry became ten times as strong, but she held her head high. _Not in front of everyone, not now, not even if I've let Edgar down and they're going to take away my..._ But the thought alone was enough to make her break down, and she would have if not for the sight of a familiar face. Sabin seemed to be calling her from his place against the wall, imploring her to not break eye contact. She held his gaze with the same fervor, if only so she wouldn't fall apart.

He gazed back in deep concentration, and then---with agonizing caution and maximum precision, so much that it was obvious he was focusing every thought, every synapse, every _molecule---_

_---_he very slowly touched the tip of his tongue to his nose.

Terra doubled over, choking loudly on her _torta de laranja_. By the time she had recovered enough for a glimpse at Sabin, he was busy examining his fingernails. Now she freely wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Forgive me," she sniffed. She felt a new burst of energy, and she swore then and there that she wouldn't give up. The affected mannerisms she'd learned came rushing back. "You speak well, Your Grace. My sentimentality has no role in the kingdom of Figaro. I only apologize that I have little knowledge in the way of courtly manners."

"Now, now. You're not at fault for your own upbringing. I am sure your father had no plan to raise you into a position of prestige."

It was a thinly veiled swipe, but Terra took it with good grace. "Why, yes. It's a pity he was so preoccupied with providing for my mother and I," she said agreeably.

A silver chime rang out over Duke Lindoro's curt response, signaling the end of dinner service. Edgar rose, the other gentlemen followed, and as one they all lifted their ladies to their feet.

"Don't be disheartened," he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear as he led her out of the dining hall. "I couldn't have asked for a more convincing likeness."

She squeezed one of his white-gloved hands. It was hard to feel at ease when the real Edgar was all the way under so many layers of thick wool and silk. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself get out of hand like that."

"There's been no lasting harm. Without your appearance the Lady Coppelia would be out of the proceedings entirely. Luckily for us both, I have a reputation for preferring the company of passionate women." He gave her a mock-innocent wink. "May I ask to what miraculous fortune you attribute your recoup? I must say I hadn't thought you would regain your bearings so quickly."

The recollection of her 'miraculous fortune' made her giggle. "Oh, it was..."

"Where was he?"

"Standing by---" Terra paused. "You knew?"

"No, but I had my suspicions. Do you really think my brother would have been able to stand by as one of his closest friends was in need? He's been on the receiving end of that same firing squad, you know. I imagine he has a lot of empathy for your situation."

"Yes..."

Together they led the other guests to the ballroom, where a full orchestra and a host of pages were awaiting the procession. Upon seeing the king, the conductor struck up a grand waltz. Edgar gave him a humble bow in response.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty." Somehow Owzer had barged through the line and was shambling up to the front. "You have always been known to be a man of...ahem, very great chivalry. Would you permit me the first dance with this charming young woman? Her grandfather and I were old friends back in the day."

It was a brazen lie and Edgar knew it, but he was in no position to contradict a man more than twice his age. He silently gestured his assent and stepped back.

Terra gawked at her partner's moldy robes and fat, wobbling jowls. He was well over five hundred pounds, and every movement seemed to shake his whole body in a way that made her shudder. "I..."

"Come with me, my lady," he said, holding her beside his enormous belly. Edgar watched them vanish into the crowd of dancers with a slight tinge of guilt. He'd warned her about being confronted by hostile ambassadors, but no amount of counsel could prepare her for being lugged across the dance floor by a foul-tempered blubbery behemoth. _Poor darling._

"Did you really have to get her into it?"

Edgar didn't need to officially recognize this particular dignitary. "I hear you saved the day."

"She needed a little help," Sabin said casually. So as not to be deterred from his point, he continued, "Why couldn't you have asked a maid or something?"

"Because I have no wish to humiliate myself and my kingdom. Do you know how many of those men asked me to provide them a maid with whom they could take their pleasure? I categorically refused to do any such thing, of course, but it's going to happen anyways, and goodness knows how many of them are going to give up what little they know in the process. If our acting Coppelia was among them the secret wouldn't last an hour."

"You know you'll be found out eventually."

"Yes, but hopefully by then the wedding will already be underway. Besides, there's no crime in a bit of playacting here and there. Unorthodox, yes, but..." He turned to Sabin for confirmation and only received an incredulous look. "Sabin?"

"What?"

"Do you think..." Edgar had stopped seeking the acceptance of politicians except in the most practicial fashion, but Sabin's approval genuinely mattered. He was the only one who could answer the question that pricked at him with every decision he made. "Do you think Father would be proud?"

Nothing made Sabin more uncomfortable than seeing his awe-inspiring older brother so anxious about anything. It didn't feel right. "To tell you the truth, I don't think he'd be proud so much as...astonished, I guess. Hell, I grew up with you and I still can't believe half the stuff you come up with."

Edgar was crestfallen. "Oh. I suppose that's true. I do tend to go to extremes, even when the situation---"

"What is wrong with you? You made a 600-year-old castle into a giant sand submarine. I don't think Dad could be prouder if he tried."

**ooo**

Owzer stepped hard on her toes. "Pardon me, I never was a talented dancer. What brings you here? Has your father been running the company into the ground? I understand you're a bright child, but this is a very rash thing to do. Royalty's no place for your kind."

Terra didn't know whether to be more horrified by his words or his appearance. "Excuse me?"

"Everyone knows the Parallel Trading Company is nothing more than a well-dressed crime syndicate for the northern territories. You'd be more aggrieved than assisted by a royal marriage. Why would you interfere with others' legitimate business?"

_Crime syndicate? _He had to be bluffing. Edgar wouldn't have neglected to tell her something like that. On the other hand, if she tried to cite specifics and failed, the ruse really would be over. Her best bet would be to shift his angle. "It may be common to our profession. I always viewed the southern trade stranglehold as nothing short of criminal."

She didn't have time to even be satisfied with what she thought was a clever answer; he had already switched tactics. "If it's just a monetary issue, I can easily provide whatever you should ask. I daresay your withdrawal from the negotiations would be worth a yearly stipend of perhaps 1 or 2 million until you settle your finances..."

Even though she wouldn't hear of it, he continued to push her until the music came to a halt. Owzer finally withdrew, frustrated with her obstinancy, and Terra would've danced for joy if not for the weight of her clothes. Unfortunately, her delight was short-lived. The thin, flat-nosed count of Albrook approached her to request a dance, and she saw no way out.

The ordeal seemed to go on for hours. The nobles pleaded, cajoled and wheedled with her. Others insulted her lineage and scoffed at her claims to high society. Terra was only truly disturbed when they threatened the safety of the little village on the Serpent Road. The proxy from Maranda had frightened her most, saying, "How long will that land be arable, anyway? Surely it would be no significant loss to raze the property and...start over, wouldn't you think?"

It terrified her to know that the ferocious jabs she'd experienced at dinner had been restrained. How could people universally considered to be so refined be so barbaric? She thought she'd be trapped for the rest of the night until a clenching in her stomach provided a legitimate excuse.

"I need to go, sir," she murmured, moving away from the baron (or was it the viscount?) of Narshe. "I don't...pardon me, I have to---"

She felt a firm grip around shoulder. Edgar had broken away from his would-be brides and was holding her with both hands. "_Ioia_? What's wrong?"

"I'm going to be sick."

"You certainly look it. Listen closely. I want you to go to my room and lie down. I'll send Sabin to take care of you, but once he's there you cannot open the door for anyone, all right? These men aren't going to give you any rest, and they'll gladly search all night if they think they can find you."

Terra was struggling to listen at all, much less attentively. "Edgar, I just want to..."

"Dear god, you're pale. Hurry." Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts she was aware of his concern and found it amusing. He wouldn't bat an eye while all his work fell to pieces, but if someone he loved was so much as feverish... She'd have to tell him about that.

He walked her to the front foyer, supporting her all the while. "Do you think you can make it upstairs by yourself?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be all right." When he was hesitant to let her go, she gently pushed him aside and began the trip back upstairs. It wouldn't have taken half as long if she'd been wearing something sensible, but the clunky shoes alone made her drag. It took all of her strength to hobble to Edgar's room and flop down on the bed.

After a minute she decided she needed fresh air more than rest. All those stifling busybodies had been suffocating her. She stood and tottered to the back door, undid the latch, and climbed out onto the balcony.

The king's veranda ascended to the rooftop with a series of marble staircases. Milk-white sculptures grew from clusters of pedestals around the curved railing. Terra looked around in wonder. It was like something out of a fairytale.

_Did Edgar build this? It's so...artistic. _It didn't fit in with the rest of the castle's engineering-minded practicality. The stiff breezes and eerie silence were surreal. _Is this what it's like to be on the moon?_

She dropped to the ground, struck her head against the stone, and threw up.

**ooo**

Sabin had just completed another successful snack mission and was about to enjoy a victory biscuit when he was confronted by an unusually agitated Edgar. "Oh, uh, hey. I can explain---"

"I'm not interested in your grazing habits. Terra's ill, and I told her to rest in my room so she wouldn't be bothered. Would you be willing to take care of her?"

"Ill?" Part of the biscuit stuck in his throat. "Ill how? Is she okay?"

"So she says, but I have my doubts. I think the whole affair was a bit overwhelming. Can you---"

"I'm on it." Sabin shoved past him and headed for the stairs. Of course it had been overwhelming for her. A concrete wall would crack under that kind of pressure. If anything, it was a testament to Terra's strength that she'd lasted the whole night.

"You're sure you don't know?"

"Yes, my lord. His Majesty's been very selective about who goes to see her."

Sabin recognized the self-righteous senator from Tzen cornering a young maid down the hall. The man took a small satchel of cash out of his pocket and shook it in her face. "Do you need something to help you remember?"

"I'm positive I don't know, my lord," she stammered.

_Disgusting. _Well, there was a solution to this. "Oh, hey," Sabin announced, his expression friendly, "Are you trying to find the Lady Coppelia? I know where her suite is." He waved at the maid, who gratefully darted away. "Or did you want something else?"

"No, no! That's exactly it! Thank you, Your Highness. Where is it?"

"I'll lead the way." And lead he did, all the way down to the dungeon, where he escorted the senator into a cell and promptly bolted the door. The resulting cries of "scoundrel!" and "beast!" made him strangely cheerful. If that wasn't doing a good deed, he didn't know what was. He whistled all the way to Edgar's room.

"Terra?"

He didn't see anyone on the bed. Had she left? Had she never made it up here? His alarm disappeared when he saw the entrance to the balcony was half-open. He went out to check around for himself. "Hey, er, Terra?"

She was crouched over on the smooth floor, hugging her waist. Sabin took one look and went back to his own room. He wasn't surprised. The same thing had happened to him when he was seventeen, just months before his father died, and Parliament had asked _Are you ready to be king? _The thought alone had made him sick.

_What a night. _He raided his pantry (Edgar was right, he _did_ graze) for some necessary supplies and hurried back to the balcony with a makeshift first aid kit. Terra heard his footsteps behind her. "Oh...Sabin?"

"Don't worry, I got this." He popped open a bottle of white vinegar, poured it out over the mess, and started to rub it out with a towel. "Are you done? If you're feeling better, you should eat up. I've got some fruit in the bag."

"I didn't mean..." Terra was embarrassed by her own helplessness. "I was...I was dancing out there and then all of a sudden..."

"Trust me, it happens to everybody. Eat something, okay? And there are some extra clothes in there, too. I figured that bodice probably wasn't helping any."

His easygoing compassion made her feel even worse. She went through the bag and found three peaches, a lemon, a button-up shirt the size of a bedspread and equally gigantic pants. "I really appreciate it," she said.

"You're welcome."

It eventually occurred to Terra that there was no way she could remove the dress by herself when it had taken two maids to put it on. Not knowing what else to do, she sat in place and clutched awkwardly at the shirt.

Sabin noticed her balking. "What's wrong?"

"I, um... I can't get this undone by myself."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure. Not a problem." He went to undo the laces, then stopped. For some reason this wasn't quite the same as merrily depantsing Edgar in front of their nearest and dearest. Girls were different, there were all sorts of places he wasn't supposed to put his hands. "Well, it's not like Edgar doesn't have money," he mumbled, and tore it apart in one swift motion. Terra yelped.

"Sorry about that."

She sounded as detached as he did. "It's fine. Thanks, actually..."

He dutifully spun around and folded his arms. As hard as he tried to create a perfect mental image of Mount Koltz, all he could think of was the injustice in having spent months developing his hearing.

"I'm done." She was wearing just the shirt, which went almost all the way down her thighs. She had a peach in one hand and the trousers in the other. Sabin couldn't help marvel at the transformation: her inner turmoil had gone away with the outlandish dress and jewelry.

"What, you don't like the trousers?" he teased.

Terra held them up. "They're almost as big as I am! I could make a tent out of these things!"

"Gee, thanks."

They sat down side-by-side. Sabin poured more vinegar on the spot, and Terra relished the taste of food that hadn't been marinated in a hundred special sauces. The entire situation was weird, and maybe a little gross, but above all it was blessedly _normal_.

"Thanks for helping my brother," he said.

"Did he tell you?"

"Nah, he doesn't like to talk about that stuff. But you did him a really big favor, and that means a lot to me."

The depth of their bond was obvious in that moment. Despite their vastly different lives, at some level their desires and motivations were the same. They were more closely joined than anyone she'd ever known. They trusted without question, communicated without speech, and understood without even having to be close by.

"I'm glad that I could do something." Even though she really did feel better, thinking of dinner made her wince. "It was hard. I'm still not sure who I am yet, but...it's not a queen, I know that. I'm not noble anything."

"Most people don't have to be. You should be thankful."

"I am." They shared a smile, and Terra briefly forgot what she'd meant to say. "Do you remember when we went to Vector?"

"That was right after we first met Setzer, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh, because the Emperor wanted to talk to us about making peace with the Espers."

Yes, he remembered. Only weeks later the world had been ripped apart. "Yeah, why?"

"Tonight reminded me of that. All those people being so...so _harsh_, and trying to not seem like it. Everybody was looking through me, not at me. I hated it."

"Edgar feels that way sometimes. People only know Edgar's royal nature." Sabin thought of the nights when his brother would come back to the royal suites, clutching an empty wine bottle and ranting about how he wanted to do away with all of those outdated laws governing inappropriate behavior. "It gets him ticked. He's a really private person, but he's always wanted to have someone to just...well, be himself." He scratched his head. "Wait, what's that got to do with Vector?"

"It made me think of when we had that banquet there. It was strange, because I'd been there a thousand times and there was a part of me that could feel all that. And the way Emperor Ghastra looked at me was the worst part. He still thought he could control me, just with words instead of machines. He didn't think of me as an equal...not even as a human, really." She bit harder into her peach, determined not to embarrass herself a second time. _Those days are over now. It's all over. Everything's fine._

Sabin gently put a hand on her back. "Hey, don't cry."

She turned to him with wide eyes.

_Why is she...?_ "You'll get dehydrated," he clarified.

For the first time that night she was talking to someone who said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no hidden agenda behind any of his words, just honest advice, and she was so thankful she wanted to cry harder. Instead she just laughed and wrapped her arms around him. It was so good to know somebody who wasn't trying to be anybody, someone who just _was_...She buried her face in the side of his neck.

"All right," she said, relaxing. "I won't cry."

"Mmh."

They stayed like that for a long time, two admittedly uncomplicated people completely happy with what little they had. Sabin bemusedly wrapped his finger around a lock of her hair. _How long has it been this green? I thought it used to be...well, I don't know_. He was going to ask when he heard her breath against his chest. _That's okay. You've had a rough night. _

"I'm not interrupting, I presume?" Edgar was standing at the door to his room. When Sabin made no motion to clobber him senseless, he approached them. "Or is this the afterglow?"

"Setzer's having a bad influence on you," Sabin muttered, not moving.

"You know, I've told him that myself. He never believes me. What happened here? Is she all right?"

"Yeah, just kinda worn out. You know how it is."

"I do." Then, delicately, "You should take her to bed."

"Is her room safe?"

"No, hang it all, there are scores of them just roaming around like it's some sort of treasure hunt. Take her to yours for the time being."

"Okay." He lifted her up, this time cradling her in front of him. He wasn't about to let her go headfirst into another door. Edgar noted the vague, inattentive way he moved, but said nothing.

The brothers' rooms were joined by a hidden passage and the elegant veranda. Throughout their childhood both places had been sacred. Nobody else was able to trade secrets and commiserate over being punished in the little passageway, and Edgar had given Sabin his final freedom on the balcony thirteen years ago. The physical connection had helped to enforce their spiritual one.

Terra rolled away immediately as Sabin lay her down on his bed, and he could tell he'd been holding her too tight. It was an involuntary reaction; he was used to climbing with rocks that didn't give. She was a person, not a boulder. Where had his mind gone? "Sorry. I...my arms are..."

"I like your arms," she said, her voice distant, and rolled over again.

Sabin stared.

**ooo**

Edgar sat upright in bed, indulging himself with a favorite book. His vision had been getting worse over the past few years, no doubt from squinting at so many bills by candlelight. He'd taken to doing his pleasure reading with a pince-nez, and although he could never be allowed out with a sign of weakness, he found it to be a tremendous help.

The chamber door opened and Sabin stomped in.

"What's the occasion?"

"Move over."

"You can't possibly---"

"I said _move_."

Edgar usually thought was better to see the extent of strange behavior before attempting to analyze it, so he simply moved to the side. Sabin unceremoniously flopped down under the covers and lay there like a stone.

Decades ago they'd shared the bed, which was just the right size for two active young boys. Now it was exclusively Edgar's and had many symbols to that effect. Various mementos from his travels had been hung around it, from countless diamond necklaces over the back to a lone pink bandana tied around one of the posts.

"Edgar?"

"Yes?"

"What are you reading?"

Sighing, Edgar read aloud from the page. " 'Because you should know, Sancho, if you do not know already, that two things inspire love more than any other; they are great beauty and a good name, and these two things reach their consummation in Dulcinea, for in beauty, no one is her equal, and as for a good name'---"

"Stop reading."

He complied, and for a while the twins were silent. Sabin stewed in his anguish until he decided that it was harder to think if he was talking. "What's it like being the most famous bachelor in the world?"

"I'm thirty years old and in bed with my brother. It's clearly an enviable lifestyle."

"What am I doing?"

"Who are you talking to?"

"Maybe I'm going crazy..."

"Would you please be quiet?"

"Am I imagining it all?"

Edgar struck him upside the head with his book and Sabin collapsed into the pillows. It wasn't the most responsible choice of action, but it gave him peace enough to read.

"Your Majesty?"

"Aha. Thank you, Matron." He signaled for her to take the tea tray. She went about her work, smiling as she did so. "You'll pardon him, I know. He's having a bit of difficulty reconciling his relationship with an old friend. Women aren't his strong suit."

"Really! Is that so? That's unfortunate. It's a good thing you don't suffer likewise with the ladies. Lord knows you're an objective, straightforward man who doesn't make his every encounter into a stage production. Yes, I suppose he could stand to learn a thing or two from his reasonable, wholly grounded big brother."

She swept out of the room, tray in hand, and Edgar reflected it was a very cruel universe indeed that had not made her sixty years younger.


	6. Chapter VI

**VI. In Which Soul-Searching And Misunderstandings Are Not Exploited For Cheap Comedy or Hackneyed Clichés**

**ooo**

Sabin awoke and sat up, massaging his temples. _Ugh._ Where was he? What had happened? He didn't remember being particularly frustrated. In fact, it had been a pretty uneventful day, up until the big dinner and everything afterward...

_Oh. Right._ Edgar lay stretched out in bed, looking more like a cat than a king with his hands folded under his chin. He certainly hadn't spent the whole night being tormented by a few horrible words.

_I like your arms._

What a mess.

He didn't bother with changing clothes and instead went straight for the weight room. Years ago his father had refurnished one of the dungeons into a private gym for his son. It had been one of Sabin's favorite places to go for peace of mind, and he'd be damned if he didn't need it now.

After two hundred pushups, leg curls and old-fashioned jumping jacks he saw the familiar fringe of Edgar's cape in the doorway. "Oh, uh, hey."

"It's five o'clock, Sabin. This is early even by your standards. Would you like to have Matron start breakfast, or would that interfere with your busy schedule of imposing upon me without bothering to mention what's wrong?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

His utter absentmindedness irritated Edgar, who had sacrificed much-needed sleep for his brother's sake without getting so much as a single morsel of information in return. He stifled the urge to stab him with a drill bit and simply swept away.

Sabin watched him leave. _How much does he really know?_ He sat down by the bench press and reached for the bar. No matter what else happened in his life, weights were something he could control. Three hundred pounds in the morning would still be three hundred pounds the next day. The only thing that changed was the way it felt to lift them.

_The only thing that changes is..._

Shit. No. He wasn't going down this road, not so soon after waking up. Lack of sleep had made him stressed and he was having trouble focusing, that's all. Good exercise would clear his head. And if he started wandering into uncharted territory for a second time he could tell some lame jokes.

It wasn't long until he was so torn between being distracted and working valiantly to not be distracted that he lost count. Discouraged, he worked harder, scraping the back of his mind for the most horrendous puns he knew, the ones that made even Locke queasy. He went through every joke he could find with bananas, chickens, and bears...

Bears. He sighed. At this rate he might as well suck it up and deal with it. So what? It was a compliment. Why was it any different than any other, like when anyone else mentioned they appreciated how strong he was? He knew the truth to that even as he asked the question. The fact that he wasn't even sure how close they were made everything different.

Terra had a strange way with words. She could hardly open her mouth without touching on a hidden truth or aspect of someone's personality, often giving voice to things everyone else would rather leave unsaid. Many times her innocent but pointed remarks had brought even the most casual conversation to a halt.

This time his discomfort had nothing to do with her curious phrasing.

He sensed a presence in the doorway and jerked his head to indicate he was aware. The inhabitants of Castle Figaro knew it was a bad idea to interrupt him when he was concentrating on his workout. _Not that I am _today...

"Sabin?"

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"Don't you want breakfast?"

"You just asked me that."

"I asked you that an hour ago."

Had it really been an hour? It couldn't have been. On the other hand, he probably did spend around ten or fifteen minutes on banana puns. "Well, uh," he said lamely, "I'm still busy."

"Mm-hmm." Edgar glided into the room holding a full breakfast plate and a teacup. He paused for a moment, then sat down on Sabin's thighs. He crossed his legs primly and took a sip of tea."With _what_, I wonder..."

"What, can't you tell I'm doing rocket science?"

"I'm saying it's unusual for you to still be here. You'd ordinarily be out running by now, you never had a remarkable attention span."

"Yeah, well." As much as he wanted to come up with a snappy retort, the smell of crepes and fresh fruit was too tantalizing to ignore. Sabin realized he hadn't had a bite to eat in nearly twelve hours. "Yeah, well," he said again.

"Naturally. Would you care to explain why the senator from Tzen spent the evening locked in a prison cell?"

"That was a public service."

"I don't disagree, but it's still going to make for a gauche confrontation. It would do me good if you and Terra would lay low upstairs until the representatives leave. The Lady Coppelia won't be putting in any more appearances today."

Sabin made a sound like "nrrgh!" that had nothing to do with the weights. "I guess you want us out of the way, huh?" he said, preoccupied with the steady rhythm of raising and lowering the bar. _I like your arms. I like your arms. I like your arms._

"I'm not ashamed of you, if that's what you're implying. Fewer people present means fewer opportunities for chaos."

He was right, but at the moment any amount of furious bureaucrats was preferable to seeing Terra. "She doesn't need me. She's plenty tough."

"I had a feeling you would say something like that, so I went ahead and told her you would stop by. You go settle your affairs and I'll settle mine." He delicately impaled a raspberry on the end of his fork. "Hungry?"

Only Edgar could get away with screwing him over and then trying to play nice. He half-nodded, and Edgar skillfully flicked the tines so the berry went flying. Sabin caught it between his teeth.

"Now then. I know you're green in these circumstances, and while I can't speak with surety because you haven't offered me so much as a word, I can gladly offer advice..."

The strain of so much continuous lifting was beginning to take its toll. "Shouldn't you be, y'know, talking about the gross standardized flat tax or whatever it is you do?"

"Nonsense. I am an inventor, a statesman and a king, but above all, I'm a brother," he said, patting Sabin's leg. "So as much as I would love to be exchanging insincere farewells with men who detest me I'm willing to make the incredible sacrifice and spend my precious time with you."

"Gee, thanks a _lot_."

"That being said," Edgar concluded, standing with a flourish, "I'll leave you to your obligations. A gentleman never runs away from difficult business."

So he _did_ know! Or did he? What was there to know? Sabin still hadn't figured that one out. "Damn it, Edgar, if you want something, you oughta say it instead of beating around the bush like that."

"What, you mean to be direct? Open? Honest? Straightforward?" He finished his crepes with a look of disdain. "How unkingly."

"You're my brother, and I love you..."

Edgar shook his head. His brother would never be a great romantic with that kind of candor.

"...but I'm about five seconds away from hurling this at your head," he threatened, briefly dropping the bar to emphasize the seriousness of his words.

"Why, then I'll have to make my exit in four. Goodbye for now, and do remember you'll always have me as a listening ear."

"As in listening _to_ me or listening in _on_ me?"

There was a surprised pause. "Touché," Edgar said briskly. He turned on his heel and left. Sabin did twenty more _I like your arms_, doing his best to not to think too much about what lay ahead.

Terra was busy taking out the hem of a skirt when he stopped by. She was still wearing his shirt, but she'd already made the bed and confined her sewing to an easy chair. "Good morning!" she chirped, looking up from her scraps of wool.

She didn't look mad. Should she? Hell, should _he_ be? "Hey, feeling better?"

"Much! I slept well." She held up the skirt for his appraisal. "Do you think this is about right? Marianna's grown so much over the past few months. I don't know if her big sisters can keep up with her hand-me-downs."

"Yeah, it's real cute." Sabin bent over the top of the chair and noticed with some amusement that her feet didn't quite touch the ground. "Edgar says we're stuck up here until all the big kids leave."

"I don't mind. I'd only cause more trouble anyway."

_Welcome to my life_. "Say, uh...I mean, the other night, if I..."

Terra blinked up at him and he forgot what it was he'd meant to say. Did they really have anything to talk about? If she wasn't upset, why was he? Had he imagined it all? "It's nothing."

"Sure."

Her smile caused such a jolt in his knees he would've fallen if not for the chair. "Um," he said, reeling, "I...I have to be somewhere." He was gone before she could manage a baffled "goodbye".

**ooo**

The cloud of Edgar's nightmarish evening had an unexpected silver lining. All his guests had been so offended that no one was lingering around to bother him. He led them to the door, offering profuse apologies or creative rationales, and was finished almost immediately. He'd never seen so many self-important people in such a hurry to leave.

He was so inundated with people leaving he almost missed Sabin rushing past. Edgar stopped him with a yank to the back of his ponytail.

"Ouch!"

"And where are you going?"

"Out. Training."

"Where?"

"Wherever."

"When will you be back?"

"This evening, I guess. Why?"

Edgar stared at him, pained by the change he saw. Sabin could be a lot of things, but aggravated and on edge wasn't one of them. Why wasn't he talking? Whatever happened to Sabin telling him absolutely everything at the drop of a hat, whether it was too much information about a festering wound on his back or the sunset he'd seen a few days prior? Now he was distant, reserved, and troubled. It was more than uncharacteristic, it was wrong.

_Why? _There was no limit of responses to that one. "It's no issue," he said, turning away. "I'll see you then."

"I...yeah, back later." He could tell Edgar resented his being so standoffish, but he could barely think straight. They could talk sometime later when he didn't feel like his brain was about to explode.

How could something so small have affected him so much? Why was it affecting him at all? When had he started paying attention to those things? What kind of martial artist was so easily influenced by another person? Maybe it was the castle. Maybe he'd get outside where he belonged and everything would suddenly fall into place.

The possibility put a spring in his step. Sabin ran to the front gates and ordered them open, waiting for the first rush of desert air to bring back his senses.

It didn't work. He set off at a lively jog, determined to either get some answers or kill himself in the process.

The latter was pretty plausible. After a near-sleepless night, three consecutive hours of hard exercise and a single raspberry for sustenance, it was impressive he'd made it this far. It was like being a novice, when Master Duncan had given him bare gruel to eat and made him train from dawn to dusk.

"You'll be stronger for it!" his master had shouted. "Anyone can be a man when they're fat and happy! True character comes through under duress! Go on, show me who you really are!"

_Who am I? _ Sabin had a feeling he wasn't looking too good at the moment. It wasn't as though he'd meant to run away like that, but in that split second he'd been taken so off-guard that he could have---

If anybody would be able to help him, it would be Edgar. Of course, if anybody would be able to blow things out of proportion and involve everyone on the planet in a harebrained scheme to completely humiliate him, it would be Edgar. It might be best to stay quiet for the time being. Who knows? It might be the weather.

He grimaced. _Why do I keep saying that? What if it really is something that won't go away? And what the hell is _"it"_, anyway?_

Damn it, he couldn't even be confused right. No wonder he had so many problems. He began whistling an old song under his breath, a stupid rhyming ditty he and Vargas had thought up somewhere in the midst of lazy summer days. _Às vezes, só vive um dia, às vezes, só uma hora... _Kind of bleak, now that he thought about it. As kids, death didn't really seem to apply. Death was for animals and old people. They were safe in their frenzy of punching, kicking and wrestling in the grass.

...which is how it should have been, but often wasn't. The children in Mobliz had not only experienced death, they'd seen it firsthand. The earthquake had taken entire families. Some were too young to remember, but others would still wake up in tears. How were kids supposed to cope with something like that? That was part of what he hated so much about the world today: nothing was sacred. All the old rules were broken. There was no point in trying to restore things to the way they were. The only thing anybody could do was to go with it and hope everything turned out okay.

**ooo**

There was something therapeutic about fixing clothes, Terra thought. As tiresome as it could be to pick up the needle day after day, she took comfort in being able to see how time had passed in her stitches. Had it really been six weeks since she patched that cap? And what about Pamina's boots? She'd cobbled them together before the first harvest, which meant almost eight months had passed. Soon Katarin would have her second baby and they'd have to go back to the rice paddies by the banks. It amazed her how quickly the whole cycle went by, and it kept getting faster.

A voice outside her room meekly offered a "Dearest?"

"Yes?" Only Edgar could make it sound as though he was honored beyond words to be in her presence. "Please, come in."

"I wanted to inform you that the great robed pestilence has left in peace. You are free to go about as you please."

"Thank you, Edgar, but I'm all right. I think I should finish these while I have the chance. There'll be so much to catch up on when I go home."

He sat down in the chair furthest from the window, signifying his position as an intimate friend. To choose a spot by the entrance would have meant he was there under protest, to be under the sill would suggest he was there for ulterior reasons, and the beside chairs were for lovers. It was an old etiquette that Terra couldn't possibly have known, but decades of firm discipline wouldn't let him waver. _What about falling asleep on the bed? _

"May I be of assistance?" he asked.

"No thank you...I really should've washed out these feedsacks better. There's still a lot of starch in the fabric."

Three years after she'd proven herself strong enough to blow out whole armies with a single spell she was making clothes from livestock bags. Edgar was aware she didn't need an exorbitant amount of money in her life, but he still flinched at the sight. She deserved the comfortable living he'd received by mere accident of birth. He watched her sew for a while, moved by her selflessness and skill. She didn't ask for charity. She'd learned to survive with the strength of her own hands.

Remarkable. There was no other word for it. She was simply remarkable in every way, shape and form.

"If it wouldn't be a bother, I'd like to wander around a bit more before I go," Terra said, running over a seam with her thumb. "Around the desert, that is. There are so many neat caves and oases around here, and the ancient castle was really beautiful. We saw so many lovely things when we traveled, but we never had the time to appreciate them."

"A reasonable request," he agreed. "Take Sabin with you, he'd be an expert guide. You can talk to him about it when he comes back this evening."

"Comes back?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the opinion that he'd been here to see you." Was his brother really that forgetful? Edgar made a note to give him a good slap. "He's out training for today. Did you want to make plans?"

"It's..." Terra put down her sewing. "No, it's fine. He did come to see me a little while ago, but he didn't mention training."

The note of a good slap was revised to provide for a good physical assault. Edgar couldn't pass it off as an unfortunate coincidence or even a faulty memory. Sabin had deliberately left without telling her, and now she knew it.

"Your work can wait for another day."

"Huh?" She didn't look devastated or grief-stricken, just slightly distressed. It was refreshing to know there were ladies in the world that didn't turn every encounter into a grand tragedy. Speaking to all those noblewomen last night had made him want to tone down his own histrionic tendencies.

"Come with me. I think I might have something that would interest you. It's not as untamed and exciting as the desert, but I think you might appreciate it nonetheless. Please..." He offered her his arm. "Permit me to be a proper host for the one guest with a perpetual place in my heart."

Somehow his overblown gallantry was just what she needed. "Yes. Yes, show me."

Side-by-side they went up the cramped service stairs, a dusty passage that went above the balcony and the highest bell tower. Terra held to the end of his cape. Where could they be going? She could find the dining room, the banquet halls, the dungeons, storage, kitchen, the living spaces, the chapel, the shops, and even the famous engine room. What else could there be that she hadn't seen?

Edgar finally stopped at a narrow ledge with an even narrower door. He withdrew a skeleton key from his pocket and slid it into the open lock. "I hope you find it as magnificent as I do." He opened the door with a wide gesture.

"Ah...!"

The whole room was built like a theatre, with seat boxes on mezzanines around an enormous stage. A large globe in the center was etched with constellations of the northern and southern hemispheres. Empty wineglasses and old robes sat atop a giant craps table. The whole room was like a...

"A museum," she said breathlessly, looking at a telescope pointed towards the glass ceiling. "All of this, and..." A glimmer of strings caught her eye, and she turned to a cherrywood cello. "I didn't know you liked music!"

"Yes, well, after five drinks I like quite a bit. I used to play the violin religiously when I was younger, but I've no opportunity for it anymore. Setzer has mentioned he's wanted to pick it up a string instrument or two, so they're really here for his entertainment. I'm more interested in old plays these days than music."

It was hard to think of Setzer's scarred, bony fingers wrapped around a violin. "Is he any good?"

"His tempo, stroke and turn are never right, yet somewhere in all that he sees a gig. It's agonizing to listen to."

"Maybe so..." The image of Setzer's fingers were replaced by a picture of the two men together, playing instruments and singing that old song about the woman who wouldn't come down from her window. "So this is where you play poker?"

"Yes, among other things. There's only so much to be done with a game of cards, you know? Father and Mother often had friends up here for private meetings. The acoustics are wonderful for a show or a concert. If you like, the next time you visit I'll have a performance here."

"I would love that, Edgar." Then, in a passionate outburst, "I think the whole castle should look like this!"

"Hm?"

"All of it! The hallways should have ribbons like this, and instruments, and carpets, and all the things you like. You shouldn't have to confine who you really are to a single room. Why not show everyone the man behind the throne?"

"No one is interested in that man. The chair he sits in means far more than he ever will. " Even as he was smiling, she could hear the futility in his voice. He had moved past being bitter and had come to accept it. The irony of his fate seemed to amuse him above all else.

The idea of Edgar as a hollow puppet frightened her more than she could say. Terra didn't have to imagine what it would be like. She'd been one herself, and it was too cruel a life to wish on anyone. This was more than just his marriage, it was his entire identity that hung in the balance.

_The chair he sits in means far more than he ever will. _"Well, I don't think that's true," she said, "and neither does Sabin, or Setzer, or any of us! Edgar, promise me you won't stop being who you are even when it seems like nobody cares."

This time his smile was sincere. It was almost impossible, he thought, to see and speak with her and not be smitten. Had he been another man and not spent so long preparing for a loveless future, he very well may have ended up one of her most ardent suitors.

"Ah, _meu coração_," he sighed, kneeling, "for your sake, I promise."

Terra laughingly bent down to kiss his forehead as a lady favoring her knight. It was out of her power to grant him his freedom, but she could give him strength by being his friend.

She glanced up and gasped. On the far wall was a full-length portrait of the twins, their stern-faced father, and a gorgeous blonde woman in a bright pink dressing gown.

_It can't be... _"Edgar?" she asked, untangling herself from his gentle arms and going to look closer. "Who is that?"

"That's Mother."

"But I thought---"

"Posthumously, of course. For my father's thirtieth birthday a famous artist did a painting of what he thought the royal family was 'supposed' to look like. Flattering, isn't it? Father was horrified, and Sabin was so upset. He didn't understand how there could be a place where he and Mother were together."

"Well, I don't think much of what families are supposed to be like," Terra said. "Maybe I'm not qualified to be a mother in the same way other people are, and I know it's not easy for the children to grow up all together like that, but I wouldn't want it any other way. We work hard and we love each other. Isn't that enough?" She looked back at the portrait. The queen of Figaro was beaming out at her angelic children, who stood with an inhumanly rigid posture in the foreground. It was all painstakingly detailed, but it didn't seem real. _They didn't grow up this way. Why would anyone memorialize something that never happened?_

"If you'd like..." Edgar had gone to the corner with the instruments and was standing by a painting there. "Someone was dedicated enough to do a more accurate depiction, even if it didn't quite fit the standards for royal decorum." This painting, only half the size of the other, showed a completely different family. A young Edgar, no more than four, sat up straight on a cushion while Sabin was preoccupied with gnawing on his own arm. The king was partially hidden by shadows in the background, just barely looking over his shoulder as though to check that the boys weren't in any trouble.

"It's just right!" Terra exclaimed. "And Sabin's expression is perfect."

"Yes. I'm not sure whether he's thinking or just licking some orange marmalade. I'll ask him someday."

_It's so beautiful,_ Terra thought. The family she saw was a little broken and a bit eccentric, but she liked it a lot more than the illusionary one. Knowing the men those two odd boys had grown up to be filled her with hope. _Family isn't a destiny or a job. They just...well, come together. And maybe I can do it too._

**ooo**

It was a quarter after midnight when Sabin finally saw the castle over the horizon. By all accounts it was a rotten day. Not only had he not been able to come up with a conclusion to everything he'd been thinking about, but the flooding from earlier in the season had ruined most of the edible plants. All he'd managed to eat were a few scant desert berries and the softer bristle twigs.

He was starving, miserable, and frustrated as ever. _What was I supposed to accomplish today?_

There was no reason he couldn't have walked through the front doors, except for his own stubborn refusal to cut himself a break. He doggedly set up onto the east wing, sweating and grunting with every move. Damn it, this was harder than he remembered. Bigger, too. Maybe he'd just drop off the side and die.

When he finally reached the familiar pillars of the king's balcony he could've fainted right there. Instead he wiped his brow and staggered back to his own room. After such a lousy experience the least he deserved was a long rest. No amount of mental gymnastics was going to keep him from sleep tonight.

He was about to flop onto the bed and happily chalk up the whole thing as a do-over when a pair of hands seized him and struck his face against the wall.


	7. Chapter VII

**VII. In Which There Are No Inappropriately Assigned Dialects, Outdated Metaphors For Affection, Or Blind Airship Pilots**

**ooo**

The first thought in Sabin's mind as he felt his head smashed into the wall was about how _unfair_ today had been. The blow was surprisingly light, considering the way he'd been jerked around, but it was enough to make him see stars for a moment. He barely cared enough to swing back, and as he turned he got a stinging slap on the jaw.

"Uh!"

"How DARE you!"

Sabin's halfhearted will to fight evaporated completely when he recognized the voice of his attacker. "E...Edgar?"

Edgar slapped him again. "You spineless cretin," he spat. "I knew you were oblivious, I knew you were a fool, but I never knew you were a coward!" Sabin's dumbfounded look so infuriated him that he very nearly went for a third swing. The only thing that stayed his hand was Sabin's piteous "Brother?"

"Yes, and if anyone else had so mistreated a woman I adore he would be picking his internal organs off the end of a chainsaw. But since you are indeed my brother, I'll give you five seconds to justify your behavior before I tear you apart myself."

It was a while until Sabin could muster a response. He could easily have thrown him into the next room, but the fact that Edgar was using any amount of physical force to begin with disturbed him. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Worry _me?_ Is that why you think I'm angry? Because I_'_ve been slighted? You really are a clod. Here you have a chance to...to...to something," he said, wringing his hands, "and you decide the best course of action is to run away?"

Was there any point in trying to explain? "I'm---"

"Don't tell me you're stupid. You're insightful, intuitive and resourceful; I've never met anyone who can accurately assess a situation half as fast. You just don't _think_! If you ever applied half the information you pick up on you'd be a far better king than I." The anger had gone out of his face and become mild exasperation. Sabin relaxed somewhat.

"I thought a little distance would help me figure some stuff out."

"Aha. And did it?"

"No."

The one-word answer was as contrite and telling as any amount of heartfelt speeches. It was convenient, Edgar reflected, that a few smacks resonated louder than words. It was also convenient that Sabin was two hundred thirty pounds of solid muscle and that no number of punches from his older brother would faze him.

"Will you talk to her?"

"What, she's awake?"

"She's something of a night owl, you know that." The romantic in him was getting carried away, and he wanted to throw up his arms and shout "Go! Go to her!", perhaps with swelling violin music for greater effect. But Sabin had no sense of drama, timing, or subtlety, and it wouldn't help to terrify him. The honorable thing to do was stand aside.

All Sabin could think of was his impending doom. Now she had a legitimate reason to be angry, and while he hoped she wouldn't be, he really did deserve it. What was it about the passage of time that made everything so clear? Why did he want to leave at all?

He remembered how her smile had temporarily stunned him. How could somebody naturally have the kind of knee-knocking charm that Edgar had created over the course of decades?He knocked on the door, vaguely aware of her acknowledgment before letting himself in.

"Terra?"

She sat up in bed, knitting a scarf with frizzy red-grey wool. Her disarming "oh, hello!" made him feel even worse for having ever left. He took a seat by the bed to look on as she knitted, and finally summoned the mettle to say what he had known to be true all along:

"I'm an idiot."

"Don't say that," she chided. "How was your training?"

"Awful." And he proceeded to recount the whole misadventure, from the way he'd walked around in circles for upwards of three hours and how there hadn't been so much as a Mu he could catch and eat. Soon they were both laughing, less at the story itself and more out of weary relief. All their anxieties had amounted to nothing.

"It's too bad, then," Terra said, but she was smiling. "Setzer is coming to pick me up tomorrow---er, well, the day after. I had wanted to explore the desert, but since you..."

"No, that sounds great. We could spend all day out there if you want. It'll be my turn for a vacation." He paused. This was as good a time as any to get it over with. "I really should've told you I was leaving."

"Why? I don't mind."

"Doesn't make it right. I should've been more considerate."

She gave him a light smack on the head with her knitting needles. "Would you stop that? What about that time when Laurent was putting up such a fuss and you were the only one he'd talk to, and you spent four hours going back and forth communicating between him and us? What could be more considerate than that?"

"Eh, I have a lot of experience with stubborn little kids." He prodded at the stretch of wool, which was taking the shape of a hat. "Do you want to leave around breakfast time or later? If you don't want to be out there for long, that's fine."

"What about earlier? Please? This whole trip has gone by so fast. The longer we spend out there, the better! And we have to make up for today, don't we? We can get some fruit and vegetables and whatever else we need from the kitchen."

Her high spirits were irresistible. It was like the old days when she would go headfirst into the riskiest situations with a cry of "let's go help!". "You've really planned this out, haven't you?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"If that's what you want to do, it's fine with me. Hell, it sounds like fun. It'll be great to spend the whole day wandering with no Locke to get us lost 'cause he thinks every lumpy patch of ground has buried treasure in it."

"That's right. We can get lost all by ourselves!"

He laughed, said "I'll be back here at around six, then," and bid her goodnight as he left. Terra put her knitting aside and extinguished the candle by the bed, determined to go to sleep as fast as possible.

_I'm glad he's all right. _She didn't think anything had happened to him, of course, but that whole day she kept wondering if something was wrong. Why had he acted like that when he came to see her? Should she have thanked him again for taking care of her or apologized for clinging to him that way? _He didn't complain, but..._

She wiggled her toes under the blanket. _I can't sleep. _Tomorrow would be full of hot sand, desert springs, and the ancient castle to the west. She couldn't imagine a better guide than Sabin, who was so experienced and fun. He was kind of like Locke, now that she considered it. She had a tendency to compare all her friends to him. He was the first person she had ever really met, and as such had stuck as a kind of standard for what people should be. Everyone was degrees of being like Locke.

_Sabin isn't that different from Locke. He's cheerful, honest, willing to talk about his pain...then again, he doesn't snarl at men who try to talk to me._ The self-proclaimed "treasure hunter" hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd protect her from any danger. She'd never really seen Setzer as a danger, but Locke had other ideas.

_We'll have a nice time..._ She felt a funny twist at the base of her stomach. She shouldn't be bothered about anymore. Everything was fine.

_Will he come to visit when I go home?_

_Why wouldn't he?_

_Why does it matter?_

_Everything's fine..._

She wasn't sure it was, but she kept repeating it until she fell asleep.

**ooo**

Morning came a little too soon, but Terra was too excited to mind. She quickly showered and went to look for another colorful combination from the closet. What to wear? She had one last day with all the marvelous clothes Edgar had provided. In the end she settled on a short dress and thin stockings. It wasn't the best choice for traveling in the desert, but she'd grown accustomed to them. Her original outfit with its garish stockings had been picked out for her by Kefka---she distinctly recalled how he had cackled with glee as he modeled his "unique style"---but she'd refused to give it up. He had no right to taint her memories anymore.

_ Only I can choose what I like_, she thought, and celebrated that freedom by taking out a pair of bright blue boots. When she at last found clothes that were appropriately uncoordinated she sat down in a chair to wait for Sabin.

Fifteen minutes passed without so much as a sound in the hallways, and Terra went to go find him on her own. It wasn't like him to be late. Then again, he did have a pretty bad memory. Had he gone out to train? No, he wouldn't do that.

She tapped quietly on his door. "Sabin? Sabin, are you there?"

"Uh-huh..."

Encouraged, Terra peered in. She didn't see so much as a sign of him anywhere until she noticed a bear-shaped lump on the bed. _He's still asleep?!_ Sure enough, he was tangled up in the sheets and holding his pillow in both arms. He looked so content it almost would've been wrong to wake him up.

Almost. "Let's go!" When he just turned over, she reached down and pinched his cheeks. "Wake up!"

"Uhn...Terra? I..." It was fun to watch the awareness flash in his eyes. "Terra! Damn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in." He rolled out of bed so fast the mattress sprang up and sent Terra sprawling. "Sorry, gimme a minute..."

She'd never seen him so flustered before. "Take your time. There's no rush." But he dashed from the closet to the bathroom to the cabinets like the world was at stake. He didn't even bother with his customary sash.

"Okay, I'm ready. If we're lucky, they'll have started breakfast, so there might be some stuff prepared." She looked puzzled the extent of his enthusiasm. "I'm...really hungry, that's all."

The kitchen staff happily offered up baskets of fresh fruits and pastries. "You can take whatever you'd like and we'll still have a surplus," the head chef complained. "His Majesty said a traveling party would be stopping by this morning. Meanwhile, the guards say they haven't seen a thing, and we're stuck in here with twenty pounds of marzipan."

Edgar was one step ahead of them, as always. "Thank you very much," Terra said. _Will I ever be able to tell him anything without him creating some elaborate plot?_ Together she and Sabin picked up as much as they could carry and set out of the castle into the early dawn.

"Where do you want to go first?" he asked.

"Can we get to Mount Koltz before sunrise? You always talk about how beautiful it is." She could still recall the first time she'd set foot on the mountain, and even in the blistering sun it had impressed her. The staggered cliffs and huge, smooth inclines seemed to reach all the way to the sky.

"I wish we could. The first round of earthquakes really broke up the northern continent. Mount Koltz went straight into the ground and formed a bunch of caverns. There's nothing left."

Sometimes in her darkest moments Terra considered everything they'd lost and questioned if their victory had come at too great a cost. _Whole families, cities, mountains, all gone... _It bothered her late at night, when she was alone. More than once she'd gone to the children's rooms and held them tight to reassure herself that it really had been worth it. _No, we weren't wrong, not when so many people are depending on us to not give up. We weren't wrong. We weren't wrong._

But now, so far from Mobliz, she couldn't alleviate that stab of doubt. "Sabin?" she asked.

"Eh?" He was already heading towards the west.

"Do you think the world is worse now? Worse than before, I mean?"

"I don't think you can measure it like that," he said casually. "Harder, maybe, but I wouldn't say that means it's worse. It's just a different world than the one we grew up in, that's all." He turned to look at her. "Why? Do you think it's worse?"

"I don't really know," she admitted. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think."  
"Think whatever you want. You're an adult."

The offhanded way he granted her that last elusive status stunned her. Was that all? She didn't have a big, important realization or newfound self-assuredness. All she had was Sabin's vote of confidence.

_...is that enough for now?_

There was a hissing at her ankles and Terra jumped out of the way of an impatient sand scorpion. It gave a low rattle, preparing to strike, but she quickly crushed it underfoot with a single stomp.

"Don't worry about me," she told Sabin, who was grinning. "I can take care of myself."

**ooo**

The western half of the desert was as dense and variegated as any forest. They were constantly encountering some incredible creature that had eked out a home in the harsh terrain, which of course meant they had to get down on their hands and knees and look at it. Terra was glad that being an adult didn't preclude a fascination with bugs.

They had walked the whole morning long, enjoying the fierce wilderness and their own isolation: the closest people were leagues away. Around noon they stopped to rest in a spotty grove of palm trees. Terra poked at the fat white-striped moths and their larvae while Sabin went to refill the canteens.

"So what's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?" he asked, scooping the water out of the spring. It was clearer and cooler than anything that came from the castle wells.

The moths were beginning to nibble at the sweat of Terra's skin. "Settle all the spats that happened while I was out, I guess. If I get a moment's peace I might even make a casserole. What about you? Are you going to stay here?"

"No, I don't really..." He trailed off, deciding the rest was better left unsaid. "I'm going to train with Master Duncan some more. This has been a break for me, too."

"Mm." She leaned back against a wide-boughed tree with ample shade. It was a relief to think of returning to Duane, Katarin and all the children, but what would she tell them about her trip? _I talked to friends, pretended to be someone important, and danced with people who would tear down our home_? The sun bore down on her and she closed her eyes, welcoming the slow surge of coming sleep.

Sabin must have noticed her drowsiness, because he sat down beside her and opened his backpack. "How about some lunch? It's probably easier to eat while we're here."

"Sure. What do we have?"

"Some rolls, sliced bread, carrots, grapefruit, canteloupe, and..." He blanched at something in the bottom of the bag. "Uh, that's it."

"It all sounds good to me." Terra ate a whole roll and half a piece of fruit until that same sluggish fog overtook her. _What a stressful vacation. _She needed real sleep. This whole week her mind had been in a million different places, but now she was calm enough to rest. She was so tired and the breeze was so warm.

"You still there? If you're that out of it we should get going."

Terra mumbled a protest. "Not yet."

"Yes, yet. C'mon." He brushed a persistent moth off her cheek, but she wouldn't sit up. "Don't you wanna go look around more? You need to stay moving so you'll be tired tonight."

"Soon, soon..." To her surprise, he didn't push it.She took advantage of his leniency and dozed off, hearing a ragged chorus of "Mama! Mama, where are we going?" as she faded away.

In her dreams the nobles came for Mobliz. They came up out of the water like frogs and rushed to the shore, waving stacks of bills and parchment. "Give up your land! Give up your home! This is for business!" Terra quickly gathered the children and what few belongings they had and rushed for the door.

The graying earl from Maranda stood with his arms outstretched over the doorframe. "How long will that land be arable, anyway?" he cackled. "Surely it would be no loss to raze the property and start over, don't you think?"

"That's right!" A crowd of corpses appeared behind him, their rotted faces accusing. "You burned our homes! You killed our children! What gives you the right to have either?"

"I didn't mean---" she began, but the earl had stepped aside to let the undead host take their revenge. They reached out greedily for her children, eager for retribution, and Terra screamed.

"You can't!" she cried. She was suddenly deep underwater and struggling to breathe. "You can't! You can't! You can't!"

"I can't what?"

The nightmare abruptly vanished and she was jolted back to the desert. There were no nobles, no bodies, and no dangers; just some sun-baked plants and several fluttering moths. All that was left of the horrible scene was a river of icy water dripping down her neck. "Wet...?"

"Better?" Sabin bent over her, tapping out the last drops from an empty canteen. "Edgar always did that to me when I had bad dreams. Well, that or hit me, and I didn't think that would go over well."

"I'm fine," she said unsteadily. The sensation of readjusting was like coming in from the cold. "I'd like to go see the ancient castle, if that's all right with you."

He helped her up but didn't let go of her hand. "Sure. I bet we can make it there in about two hours if we walk fast."

"All right." _I'm fine. I'm just fine._ She looked at his fingers wrapped around hers and wondered at it. When would he let go? Would he ever? Would they walk all the way home to Figaro Castle and explain themselves to Edgar? What was she supposed to do in a situation like this?

_I don't mind. _His familiar warmth and safety was comforting. Terra wanted to thank him, then realized how absurd it would sound and thought better of it. Instead she squeezed his hand, a shy gesture he readily returned. _Thanks._

She could tell that he knew what she meant.

**ooo**

Sabin didn't have a reason to hold onto her except for it seeming like the right thing to do. Actions really were louder than words, even if he didn't necessarily know what they were saying.

The ground level path to the ancient castle was a series of tunnels on the western border. "Some scholars from Figaro and Corlingen are trying to excavate it," Sabin explained. "They're really interested in all those books in the library. Edgar's nuts about it, of course, 'cause they're paying him tons for the privilege and he always loves new research..."

Terra remembered the library and its countless stone shelves. Some years ago she'd stood there for hours, reading the story of the queen and her esper lover and looking over the last line again and again. _To love a beast is certain peril..._Did that mean her, too? "Right. There were a lot of books in there I wanted to read."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time now. We've still got five hours before we need to start heading back."

The short, sandy tunnels became increasingly humid as they went further below ground. Sabin glanced down and, seeing no discernable change underfoot, slid the rest of the way down. Terra waited until she heard a loud "thump" in the distance.

"Are you all right?" she called.

"It's fine. Go ahead."

She dropped to her knees and let gravity do the rest of the work. The rush of wind reminded her of when she had been able to fly, and even in the tight crawlspace the exhilarating feel of a force beyond her control was the same. She finally tumbled to a stop on damp stone.

"Nice landing."

"I did my best." She stood and wiped off her dress. "So, where do we start?"

Thousands of years later most of the castle had fallen to pieces, but the remains maintained an air of haughty grandeur. There was a kind of sanctity about the place, as though the sheer age of the ruins demanded piety. Terra admired the grotesques hunched over the entrance before going in to walk around. Their menace, like so much else, had been lost with the passage of time.

All the rooms was grim and spartan, a far cry from the resplendent opulence of the modern aristocracy. This had been a warrior's culture, where honor was valued above wealth. Even the royal chambers were almost wholly unadorned.

Sabin was tapping at a jar full of thin brown sticks."This is neat. Food must've been pretty scarce."  
"What are those?"

"It's..." He caught a whiff of the rancid smell. "Geh! Tin pork, that's what Father called it. It's just dried and salted strips of meat. They don't have much nutrition, but it's enough to keep you from starving for a little while. You see a lot of it in poorer areas." It was also one of Edgar's favorite foods, even if he'd never admit to it. Sabin had often caught him indulging but his brother always insisted it was a temporary weakness.

Eventually they wandered down to the library. Although none of the foreign scholars were present, their looseleaf sketches and observations were still scattered all across the floor. Terra couldn't find the story of Odin amongst the mess and was relieved. For a while they just took books at random and read aloud passages that struck them as funny. Sabin found a lot of amusement in the coldly factual stories of court life.

"I tell you what, some things don't change. Politics is politics no matter what kind of society you live in."

Terra opened a large leatherbound volume that had been propped up against a chair. The pages were filled with complicated graphs, symbols and short lines of nonsensical poetry. _For there are two rivers/Diverging from one source/The same, and yet not equal/Fate spares one, the other's doom is swift. _"Is this...?" She flipped to another page, and this time the corresponding lines were about feathers. "Is this a book of predictions?"

He leaned down to read with her. "It doesn't make any sense, so probably, yeah. I can't think of anybody else who would draw a bunch of star charts."

"You're right. Here he goes on and on about the world's greatest leader, but there's just blank space at the bottom. I guess he didn't think he needed to give specifics."

"Well, we can fix that."

She immediately knew what he meant. "Yes, absolutely!...but isn't it wrong to write in a book?"

"Not if we're just adding information." His innocent grin won her over, and she grabbed a quill off one of the tables.

_Unmatched throughout history_

_Of leaders the most eminent_

_His name is resounding,_

_His works are everlasting._

_Behold, and remember God's chosen king:_

Underneath in small curled script she wrote out _Edgar R. Figaro_.

**ooo**

"What a fantastic day!"

"Agreed."

It was just hours after sunset, but the sky already shimmered with countless stars. Castle Figaro was barely visible from a distance, little more than a shadow against the vast expanse.

Terra wiped sweat from her forehead. "That was exciting...strange, isn't it? We spend so long fighting for our lives, and now going out at all is an adventure."

"You miss the old days?"

"No!" She would never miss washing off the dried blood that caked under her fingernails, sleeping in three-hour shifts to stand guard, or having to kill any Imperial soldier that posed a danger. It had been a brutal, unforgiving way to live. "No, I don't," she continued, "but I still like to travel."

"Me too."

Without the benefit of sunlight the desert grew cold, and beside her Sabin had become a dim, hulking outline. She felt the same fearful solitude that preyed at her in her dreams. "I had a really nice time," she said, if only to be sure she wasn't truly alone. "This whole trip, I mean. You and Edgar have been so good to me. And for everything you've done...thank you."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried, I'm just glad. It means a lot."

"Sure thing," he said, and gave her ponytail an affectionate little flip.

"I..." _Why do you believe in me when I'm still so weak? _Terra pulled his arm to her chest and held it tight. She wasn't sure what she was doing or why she was doing it, but she knew it was very important she be close to him right then, even if words failed her.

It was a ridiculous, childish thing to do, but Sabin didn't object. He gingerly rested his chin atop her head and stood there with her.

_Thank you for understanding, Sabin, even if I don't..._

Against all expectations Setzer was waiting for her at the crack of dawn. Terra put on her old house dress and stumbled outside, shielding the sun from her eyes. Castle servants were carrying stacks of lumber into the Falcon while Setzer protested loudly. "What is this, legitimate business? What about my reputation?"

The twins laughed. Edgar was the first to notice Terra hovering apprehensively by the front gates. "Ah, _meu doce_! I don't know how I'll have the strength to face the day without you."

"You'll just have to manage," she smiled, hugging him tightly. It wasn't often the king was permitted to show sincere physical affection. "I'd be happy to help you again if you ever need me."

"No, no; I am in your debt. Permit me to repay the favor when the time comes." He gave her a last chaste, courtly kiss and released her. "Brother? Surely you have something to offer?"

Sabin shrugged, frowned, then scratched his head. "Uh, well, right. I'll see you around."

"Yes..." Terra turned away and looked up at Setzer. "Can we go?"

"Ready when you are," he said, raising an eyebrow. She avoided his suspicious gaze and hurried up the gangplank. She wanted to be home in Mobliz as soon as possible.

_There's nothing more to say, is there?_

_It isn't as though it matters._

_I'm going home, where I belong._

_There's nothing more to say..._

Setzer took his place behind the wheel and lifted off.

**The End**

(...of part one.)


	8. Chapter VIII

**VIII. In Which Notorious Gamblers Are To Be Trusted**

**ooo**

"How was your trip?"

Terra glanced back from her spot at the railing. Setzer held the ship's wheel in one hand and a burnished silver flask in the other. It was hard to tell what he was getting at. Even when speaking openly, he always had a touch of wry humor in his voice that made her wonder just how serious he really was.

"Fine," she said blankly.

"Fine, but...?" He tapped his forehead. "I'm no genius engineer, but you're gonna have to do better than that. If everything's so fine and dandy, why'd you want outta there so fast?"

"I..." It wasn't something she could explain to herself, much less a friend. _Why not_? She turned to him, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really don't know."

He was quiet for a while, drumming his fingers on the steering pedestal. "Is it something a rabbit would help?" he asked at last.

She considered it. "You know, I think it would."

Setzer smirked and reached into his oversized black jacket with its seemingly bottomless pockets. After a minute or so of shuffling around he pulled out a flop-eared bunny. Terra didn't understand how he was able to keep a live animal in a jacket, but she chalked it up to just another part of the gambler's colorful mystique.

The little lagomorph curled up in her arms and she stroked its soft, short fur. Setzer was right; a rabbit did help. "I feel...lost," she confessed, leaning against his back. "Lost, eh? Where are you going?"

"Not anywhere different, I don't think. It's just not the way it used to be."

"Then that's not so bad, is it?" She could feel his shoulderblades as he straightened up. "Life's all about what you don't see coming."  
"Yes, but..." Terra sighed. "I wish I was as strong as you."

"I'm not strong, I just hold on tight. You do the same and it'll all turn out in the end. You'll see."

_Hold on tight. _It was neither inherently optimistic nor bleak. She had a feeling he'd lived most of his life with those words in mind. _If he can do it, I can too. _"All right. I'll do my best."

He chuckled. "That's my girl."

The rabbit she held squirmed in agreement.

**ooo**

"That was inexcusable."

Of course Edgar would say that. Of course Edgar would blame him, of course Edgar was enraged by what he perceived to be a great injustice against womankind as opposed to Sabin's just being very confused, as if it was some kind of crime to not know what to say in a situation like that. Of _course._ Sabin shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

"That's all?"

"Yes, it is. I'm going north to train."

"Wait!" Edgar swung around in front of him, suddenly concerned. "You're not leaving because of this, are you?"

He glowered. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Listen to me." When he used that quiet but commanding tone he sounded like Father, and it never failed to stop Sabin in his tracks. But there were no profound words of wisdom that followed, just a wistful suggestion:

"I'd like you to straighten things out. If not for your own sake, then for mine."

The unspoken implication was jarring. "Are you going to be married when I come back?"

It was an old joke between them, with Edgar's usual response being a dramatic "I dream of the day" and a mock swoon. Now he simply shook his head. "I'll do everything within my power to let you know in advance."

_I'd give you everything I have if it would put an end to all this. _He grabbed Edgar in a sympathetic hug. _The world's a lot less funny when you're an adult. _"Look, just...stay strong, okay? Call up your friends. Hang out with Setzer as much as possible and do that rope-thing or whatever you call that game where you get so sloshed you end up---"

"Sabin!" Edgar paled, watching the several maids running around in the vicinity. "I think you're forgetting the first thing about keeping secrets."

"---and invent more stuff because that I know makes you happy, and even though I can't be around all the time I'm still rooting for you, so try not to let it get you down too much when---"

"That will do!" Even as he went out of his way to appear angry, Edgar was secretly moved by his brother's compassion. How could he dread the future when he had this kind of support? "Did you or did you not say you had to go train?"

Sabin gave him another crushing hug that lifted him several inches off the floor. "Who's touchy now, huh?"

"Let go or I won't live to be a married man," he gasped. He could feel his ribs bending inward. Since when had Sabin been this strong? Was being a behemoth too easy for him?

If only there was more _time_. If only he could cancel the business of the world for a day and go out and really talk with him. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much advice he wanted to offer, so much that still needed to be said. Now he genuinely had to step back, and after the wedding they would see each other even less.

This was, in many ways, a last goodbye, and Sabin seemed to know it. In that moment Edgar loathed his crown more than he ever had, not for its enormous weight or hollow honors but the way it was slowly forcing him apart from the person he loved most.

_Terra..._

_Would you take care of him for me?_

_I trust you._

He envisioned a flock of bright-eyed, easily confused children with green-yellow hair and it filled him with hope.

**ooo**

A high-pitched whine bore out over the Falcon's engines as they prepared to land in Mobliz. Setzer turned over his shoulder, trying to discern the source of the sound, but Terra knew it immediately. "It's not the ship."

"It'd better not be. But then...?"

"Listen closely." She could make out two distinct syllables. As the ship touched down and the propellers stopped, the mysterious noise became many voices shrieking "Mama! Mama!"

"There's a welcome for you," Setzer said, wincing. The rabbit tried to bury its head between its tiny paws. "How about you go in there and tell the kids the least the could do is put out some wine for their mama's friend?"

"I don't think so. Who do you think is going to help me move all this lumber?"

"Easy. Duane!" he shouted offhandedly. The young father held two children by the hand and was leading them to the airship's deck. "Duane, get over here and do something nice for the grown-ups!"

"Setzer, don't..." Terra's old friends had a strange way of picking on him. He was an honest, affable boy, if not a bit cowardly when it came to making decisions. Parenthood had matured him considerably, but he was still just so young. Terra wondered how his next child would change him.

Duane came up the gangplank, looking irritated. "What do you want from me?"

"Take it easy, kid. We got a year's worth of wood down in the cargo hold that needs to get moved out, so grab some planks and man up, all right?" It was the same casually condescending tone he used with Locke, and it got the same annoyed reaction.

He scowled, but went to start unloading anyway. Setzer brushed back his hair, obviously pleased with such a brilliant motivational strategy.

"Say, Terra, where did all of this stuff come from?"

"Um..." Why was she so hesitant to tell the truth? Setzer wouldn't judge her, would he? No, he wouldn't, because there was nothing to judge! Then again, he'd seen the way she'd said goodbye. "Sabin got it for me. I ordered a lot of supplies from Jidoor and they wouldn't ship the order. I guess he took the receipt after I threw it away."

"I see," he said, unreadable as ever, and that was all.

The three of them took several planks at a time and set them down in a small clearing on the edge of the village, but even with all of them together it took well over an hour to finish unloading. Some of the children came out to watch, all the while squealing with glee. "Mama's home! Mama's home!"

_Yes, Mama's home, where she belongs. _"Where's Katarin? Is she doing well?"

"She's taking another nap," Vale sniffed from his spot on the porch. He was just eight but already had a well-developed sense of skepticism. "She's sick again. I bet you after this baby she's gonna have another one, and then another one, 'cause it's all she knows how to do."

"You shut your mouth!" Duane snapped. Setzer laughed out loud.

Terra just put on her best disapproving face and said, "You shouldn't talk that way about Katarin or anyone. In this family we all respect each other."

"Nuh-uh! Yesterday she told me I was a stupid brat who deserved to be shoved down the drain."

"It's true," Duane said, stalking back into the house.

"Duane!" _I can't even leave home for two weeks? _She turned helplessly to Setzer. "I'm sorry, but I think I have a real crisis to attend to."

"Sure looks like it. You'll have to give me the blow-by-blow later." Again he gave her a kiss in parting; he wasn't fond of embraces. Terra thought it was a conscious effort on his part to keep himself closed off. "You should take it easy. You've got nothing to be upset about. I mean, look at all this," he said and gestured to the stacked lumber.

"Look at...? What do you mean?" But he was already back on the ship and preparing for takeoff. It was just like him to make a parting remark he knew she wouldn't understand. Setzer liked to challenge people, both directly and with more subtle means. She waved as the Falcon disappeared over the horizon.

She might have stopped to give his words more thought if not for the mob of children around her legs. No, there would be no introspection, not now. Maybe not ever, if she could help it. "Well, hello!" she said, holding them as tight as she could. "I missed you all so much..."

"Mama, are you crying?"

"And why shouldn't I?" Terra bent down to exchange the flurries of kisses that always made her melt. Oh, it was worth it to have to shout herself hoarse on occasion as long as she had times like these. "It was a long trip. I'm so glad to be back home."

"But I thought you were gonna be with your friend!" one of the smaller girls piped up. "The king! He's Mr. Sabin's brother, isn't he? You said he's your friend!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean everything is easy." There was no sense in telling them about the dinner party or anything that had happened afterwards. All she could do was hold them and treasure what she had. _No one is going to take my family away, never, never..._

"Where did you get all the wood?"

"Yeah, Mama, where did that come from?"

"Did Mr. Setzer bring it to you?"

"Are we gonna have to pay money?"

"That's so much! What are we gonna do with it all?"

"Who's gonna build it?"

"Mama, Mama, let's get started now!"

Their excited chattering raised her spirits anew. "We can get started soon, I promise. But isn't it about time we put some dinner on? Let's go inside and see how Katarin is doing."

The children scattered, either off to their respective rooms or out to play in the tall corn crops. Meanwhile, Terra was amazed at how meticulously the house ahd been cleaned. Her cast-iron pots and pans, which so often served as invincible armor for little towheaded knights, hung neatly on the wall. All the harvesting equipment sat in place, ready to be taken to the fields in a minute's notice.

Katarin stood by the stove, holding her belly with both hands. "Welcome back, Terra," she said softly. "I hope you had a good time."

Terra ran to give her a careful hug."Katarin! You should be resting! Is there something I can get for you?"

"Stop it, I'm not helpless. What's this Duane tells me about all the lumber in the front yard? I thought the suppliers from Jidoor weren't going to deliver this far."

"It was a gift. Sabin..." Every time someone asked it became harder to sound nonchalant. He hadn't just bought it on a whim; he would have had to keep the receipt for months, all the while planning to... "It's kind of him, isn't it?"

"It's more than kind, it's amazing. I'll have to thank him the next time he comes around. What a nice man." She stretched and wandered off, rubbing her eyes. "I'm not feeling hungry, but if you could save some dinner I'm sure I'd eat it later."

"Yes, of course." Terra opened up the pantry. They were still recovering from last summer's drought, when the weeks without rain had ruined half the coming harvest. She'd walked all the way to Tzen to buy the staples they needed, but even then it was only barely enough. _I could make pasta, it doesn't require too much, and there are still plenty of pears left in storage...Tristan won't eat pears without cinnamon and brown sugar, but I think we have some..._

She felt a twinge of joy. _I'm thinking like a mother again. _Now she could focus all her attention on what really mattered. "Lue!" she called. "Lue, do you want to help Mama cook?"

Lue was a willowy, quiet girl whose reticence reminded Terra strongly of Celes. She stayed in her room, only venturing out when asked, and rarely spoke to anyone. Terra had a soft spot for her; she knew what it was like to feel out of place.

"Hello, Mama," she said, and stepped forward to dutifully receive her hug and kiss.

"Look at you! You must've grown an inch since I left! Would you like to do the potatoes? If you could just cut them up and mash them, I could work on fruit."

She silently reached for the heavy pestle. _Oh, Lue. _Terra wasn't sure if having other children on the island would make things harder or easier. Surely they would benefit from having friends, but hadn't they already grown up that way? They were just now beginning to see each other as family. Was that good or bad? Weren't friendly relationships important, too? How should they be interacting? Would Lue be happier with more girls her own age?

_Being a parent means worrying nonstop. _That was all right, though. This sort of worry was familiar. She could fret all night if she wanted to.

A thin pair of arms grabbed her around the waist. "Mama, I sewed up my old brown shirt all by myself! Come see!"

"Good for you, Susanna! But why don't you bring it downstairs so I can take a look? Lue and I are just starting dinner." It was lovely to feel needed, appreciated and (most of all) at ease. The smell of potatoes and rock salt relaxed her.

In between the hour and a half it took to put dinner on the table, Terra approved of the shirt, meditated two disputes, bandaged a wound, and sang a whole host of traveling songs. Even the normally staid Cyan had taught her a few from Doma, about the peach trees in summertime and a warrior's sword. Edgar's ditties with their intricate harmonies had always been the most fun to sing, but she wasn't sure how many of them were appropriate for children. She began humming the opening bars to the _Zefiro torna, _then singing as the melody moved her.

"What's that song, Mama?" one of the older boys asked, reaching out for the potatoes. None of the houses in Mobliz had a single table for so many people, so Terra and Duane had had to convert a bookshelf for the cause. Their "table" resulted in a lot of bumped elbows and squashed shoulders, but it was all they had.

"I learned it in Figaro. The old queen liked to sing it, I'm told."

"Figaro sounds so exotic," Duane said enviously. "I'd love to visit someday. I'd like to see all the castles and kings and far-off places you talk about. Sometimes I forget there's anything outside of here."

"How big is the world?" Phillippe wanted to know.

Terra was at a loss for an explanation. How could she convey the enormity of the whole planet to someone who had never been a mile from home? "Well...think of it like this. If you walked all the way from the western shore down to where the big forest starts, that's about the size of Castle Figaro."

"Wow!"

"That's just the castle?!"

"Does everybody in Figaro live there?"

"No, no. The kingdom of Figaro is even bigger. A lot of it is a desert that goes on for miles in every direction, so big that you can't see it all even from the highest point in the castle. People live in towns on the north and south edges. But even all that put together is just a small part of the world."

There were more amazed cries of "That's huge!" and "Whoa..." Everyone agreed it would be great to go exploring someday, and Terra toyed with the idea of asking Setzer for a paid tour. Somehow she didn't think he'd be too enthusiastic about little hands and feet making marks all over the ship, but it couldn't hurt to ask. If anything, it would be worth it to see him try to censor himself.

_We should do it soon, before Doma Castle is gone forever. _How much of the world she knew would be gone by the time the children grew up? It was natural for things to change, but she couldn't help but think it wasn't a good change. If people like the nobles she'd met in Figaro were in charge, how could she possibly have faith in the future?

_Do you think the world is worse now? Worse than before, I mean?_

_I don't think you can measure it like that. Harder, maybe, but I wouldn't say that means it's worse._ Remembering Sabin's optimism was encouraging. He was the most well-traveled person she knew. If he still believed things were all right, it had to be true.

It was strange how so many things he did and said were reassuring to her. What was it that gave him that peace of mind? Was it meditating? It seemed like a good, calming thing to do. Why didn't she try it?

"Mama, will you make cookies?"

"I want ice cream!"

"Jay's shoving!"

"No, _you_ are!"

"Mamaaaa!"

"Can I stay up late tonight?"

"If he gets to stay up late, I do too!"

Terra remembered why she didn't meditate.

**ooo**

Before every trip to train with Master Duncan, Sabin stopped to visit the one person his master respected and feared as a superior. "In that house lies my strength," he would say, waving at a little cottage with white shutters, "my heart, my soul, and my every waking terror. Go and do penance! Recognize the face of true power!" Sabin was always willing to go, because he never disobeyed his master---and the face of true power made really good oatmeal raisin cookies.

"Sabin, dear! How are you? Why, it's been ages!"

"Hello, Lady Duncan," he said, bowing not only out of reverence but to keep from bumping into the ceiling. Everybody in South Figaro was so _short_. "I'm fine, thanks. How have you been?"

"Good as ever. You know, I heard from that insufferable clerk at the tailor's that His Royal Highness was in town accompanied by an attractive young lady who turned out to be _the_ Lady Coppelia. Since when do you spend your time cavorting with beautiful heiresses?"

"Uh..." He didn't know how to field that one. "She's an old friend. We were doing some errands for Edgar."

"Of course! That's what I said, you see, but the wretch wouldn't hear of it, saying you were making a move for the throne because your brother's been so slow to marry, so naturally I had to beat him over the head with my cane." She shuffled to the tea cabinet and took out a box of lapsang souchong. She was a tiny, wrinkled woman bent low with age, but Sabin could see the attraction.

"If you're off to train with the master," she said informally, "you should know he's not up north. He went down to Thamasa recently to visit some friends."

"Thamasa!" The week he'd set aside for the journey became two and a half. _Of all the rotten luck._

The old woman laughed. "He's becoming even more restless these days, if you can believe it. If he's not doing something every second he'll curse himself for wasting time...is that going to be you someday?"

Sabin shook his head. "I hadn't planned on it," he admitted. "There are still so many people just starting to rebuild their lives. I have to help all of them before I do anything on my own. Besides, it would be nice to..." _Settle. Have a real home. Live on my own terms, like Edgar never will. _"...just take things one day at a time."

"I can sympathize, but that's no attitude for someone about to train with my husband. If you want to find him you'd best finish your tea and catch the earliest boat out from the Colosseum. By the time you get there he may already be on the other side of the world."

Master Duncan would no doubt be amused to know he was still running circles around his oldest pupil. Sabin resolved to be at the Colosseum harbor in five days' time. From there it would probably be a week to Thamasa, if not more; motorboats were rare and there were likely to be several other trade stops along the coast. It was always such a pain to get down there, and it usually ended up with Strago hassling him to get a real job. _Still, if Master Duncan is there..._

As he should have expected, his luck only got worse. An enormous sandstorm stalled him for nearly eight hours, the northwestern channel had flooded, and the heat wave was overwhelming.

_What did I do to deserve this?_ he thought. _Was one lousy day not enough? I'm not running away from anything now, just back to business as usual, and I'm still suffering for it. _Sabin wasn't generally inclined to think too much of bad fortune, but he was still annoyed. After all, Figaro Castle was far away. Weren't things supposed to be _less_ complicated?

He stayed awake by reciting the endless prayers of the order (_all my life is for Your service, all my works are in Your name_), coming up with terrible puns on people's names, and thinking about the kind of work he'd have to do. The master had a gift for "creative" training, not that it could be harder than putting three hyperactive little boys to bed at once. That alone had made him question the existence of God.

Was she holding up all right? Nah, of course she was. She didn't need his help, or anybody else's, for that matter. He just had a soft spot for all those kids. Maybe he'd swing by in a couple weeks and bring some souvenirs from his trips.

...unless a couple weeks was too soon. He tried to be good about not coming any more than once every three months unless somebody had a birthday. Did the trip to Figaro count as a visit? Was he supposed to base it around the last time he saw the kids, or the last time he saw Terra?

Sabin was working that out two days later when he arrived at the harbor, and later still when the first ship headed out toward Thamasa. Somehow it was enough to keep him up well into the early dawn. Few things frustrated him more than not knowing what to do.

He had just laid down to a would-be sleep on a woefully undersized cot when he felt tiny footsteps on his chest. Bewildered, Sabin looked up to a whole parade of miniature Edgars running circles all over him. "What the...?" He could feel the press of their feet; it was no dream, just---

"It's about time you noticed me."

A familiar sandy-haired girl sat hunched in a corner, holding a fat sketchbook. She ripped away the top page and the dancing Edgars vanished into the air. "So where've you been? What a coincidence, huh? Say, as long as you're up, why don't you buy me a soda?"

It was going to be a very long trip.


	9. Chapter IX

**IX. In Which The Central Conflict Is Not Particularly Central  
**

**ooo**

"Not even a measly soda? You cheapskate!" Relm whined.

Sabin nodded to the overstuffed satchel at her side. The little ridge-lined bulges around the side gave little doubt as to its contents. "Who's a cheapskate? Are you gonna tell me that's not full of money? Where did you get all that, anyway?"

"Hey, I earned this!" She held up the bag. "I'll have you know _the_ Bandit King paid me to paint a mural on the Colosseum ceiling. Normally I make a habit to see my employers face to face, but I'm willing to make an exception for that kind of money. Besides, think of the exposure! So many people go to the Colosseum every day!"

"Bandit King?"

"Yeah! He lives up there in a back room where nobody can see him. Rumor has it he tried to commit suicide in a huge explosion and made it out totally disfigured but alive, that he's cursed to not die or something like that. But," and she stuck out her chest with pride, "he obviously has great taste in artists."

"I guess he does." Sabin studied her closely. She was in the awkward phase of almost but not quite a little girl anymore, still chubby-cheeked and snub-nosed but with scrawny legs that poked out from under her old painting pants.

He wasn't quite sure whether he was ready to see her as a teenager. The world at large probably needed some time to prepare. If Strago hadn't been on the brink of death before, a few boys coming to call would no doubt have him well on his way to the grave.

Relm began sketching again. "...so that's my excuse. Why are you going all the way out to Thamasa?"

"Master Duncan's down there."

"You're going halfway around the world to get beaten up by an old guy? Lame." She gave him a thumbs-down for emphasis. "Also I noticed you haven't got me a soda yet. Are you gonna get on that or what?"

"Keep dreamin', kid." It seemed she was finally growing into her sharp tongue, which had been so jarring on a child. Hopefully she wouldn't feel the need to outdo herself, because Relm at her most acerbic could melt steel.

"You're no fun."

"I'll buy you breakfast if you let me get some rest." Sabin rolled over on his cot. This whole month was rapidly becoming one of the most confusing times in his life. Every day was more unexpected and nonsensical than the last. How much longer was this going to go on?

"Fine."

In the darkness he could see the silhouette of a dancing girl on the far wall, another enchanted product of Relm's incredible gift. Sabin watched it until he felt his eyes grow heavy with fatigue and finally fell asleep.

Even in his dreams he was tormented by thoughts of Edgar, bound to an indifferent wife with a child he wouldn't have time to raise. _Do you blame me for running away? Am I still running away now, when you need me most?_

_Are you disappointed in me?_

_Is Father?_

The vision faded away and became a bright hilltop dotted with flowers. Sabin spun around wildly. He couldn't shake the sense that there was something he was supposed to _do_, but nothing appeared to aid him. Dejected, he sat down in the grass.

Suddenly Edgar was there, wearing an ermine cape and twirling the scepter of the desert empire. "I know that," he was saying, although he didn't appear to be talking to anyone in particular, "but you can't drop everything and leave because of a temporary setback."

"Edgar? Why are you dressed like that?"

"The kingship is my identity now," he said darkly, his expression serious. "Although I reckon it's an improvement over nothing at all," he hastened to add.

Sabin looked down and saw he was indeed completely unclothed. "Huh. Well, that's weird." There was really nothing else to be said in that regard. "Say, it's funny you showed up. I was just thinking about you. Or, well, worrying. You know how it is."

"That's my job, you oaf. My throne is made of fretting and distress." He sat beside him, sighing. " Shouldn't you be somewhere else? I can't claim to possess the most marvelous mind of our time---although I'm certainly a contender for the most beautiful exterior---but I can only wonder if perhaps your time would be better spent in a different way. For instance, not in a field. Nor naked."

"Yeah, well, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"You never do. Let me tell you one thing: if you would just..." He leaned close as though to confide a secret, but said nothing.

"Do what?" Sabin wanted to know. "What is it? C'mon, what?"

"Buy me breakfast..."

"Huh?"

"I said buy me breakfast! You're so lazy!" Relm was smothering him with his pillow, and even as he began to move she didn't let go. "You're not gonna forget about your promise, are you? Come on, come on, come on!"

He thought of Terra waking him up with a pinching assault. For some reason this was a lot less pleasant, which was a strange qualifier in light of both experiences being pretty uncomfortable. But Terra didn't really have that high-pitched squeal in her voice, and he wouldn't mind so much if...

_No! _"So what do you want for breakfast? I'm hungry too." Anything to keep his mind off _that_. Sabin rubbed his temples and stood up. "I'll bet you I can eat more."

"You can have that bet, thanks," she said scornfully. "I saw you clean out a whole buffet once. Doesn't your religion say gluttony's a sin?"

"My religion says to eat according to one's means. Mine just happen to be a lot larger than most people's."

Relm made a dismissive "psssh" and sashayed out the door to the dining cabin. Sabin followed, scratching his head. From the day they met she'd established that she didn't want to be treated differently, but it had never been a problem between them. He only took charge when the situation called for a stern, firm authority figure. Sabin was good at inspiring obedience (and just a tiny bit of fear), but sometimes it was hard to sound angry when the kids' behavior ended up being more hilarious than hurtful. More than once he'd seen Terra send a child to their rooms, then stifle a giggle in her hand. Meanwhile, he had spent more than two decades practicing self-control and he could still barely keep a straight face. How did she do it?

"Not an omelet!" Relm screeched. "I hate omelets!"

Sabin didn't remember taking a plate off the countertop and ladling it with the thick, eggy glop of a sea-cooked omelet, but there it was. "Oh, uh, sorry. I'll get you a new one."

"I should think so! Geez, where have you been?" Other passengers were beginning to sneak looks at the huge, musclebound man and his skinny, shrill companion. "You need to pay more attention to me!" she continued, oblivious to the stares around her. "I'm your guest, aren't I?"

"Who's anybody's guest? You were sitting in my room and wouldn't leave me alone until I bribed you!"

"Details, details. Can I have a crepe?"

"Unbelievable," he said, but couldn't help smiling. It always amazed him how many things in life were easier with a friend around. _Well, with some friends, anyway. With others it gets harder and then you...hell. _"Do you put Strago through this?"

"I would if he put omelettes on my plate," she pouted. Sabin rolled his eyes.

**ooo**

Terra lay in bed with a glass of warm milk. She must have been slow to readjust to the cool, wet air on the water, because she'd been sleepless and feverish for days. Even the smallest tasks were draining.

_If it doesn't get better by tomorrow I'll start taking some medicine._ The water clock on the dresser chimed to a quarter past three, and she groaned. Every minute she spent awake meant one less minute to be fully focused on her work during the day.

The milk didn't seem to be helping. Terra decided she might as well try to do something productive as long as she was awake and reached for her knitting needles. If she worked quickly, she might be able to finish Phillippe's hat before the clock struck again.

She thought of the heavy tiara she had worn at the royal banquet. That had been for a mere noblewoman, and it had made her neck sink into her shoulders. What did Edgar's crown feel like? Did he have to wear it often? She ought to make Edgar a nice little wool hat with a fancy blue ribbon on top that he could wear whenever his work got too depressing.

It was hard to think of him and not be moved. Edgar suffered so much just because of his birth. If she had been a noblewoman, she would've married him in a heartbeat. Or would she have? Would she know how to appreciate his selflessness and generosity if she'd been born rich?

There was no sense thinking of what would've been in another time and place. She was in Mobliz and couldn't be happier, it just wasn't right that Edgar couldn't be happy too. He deserved the best the world had to offer.

Terra tried to imagine the perfect bride for him. She'd have to be short and slim with a sort of playful countenance, and naturally she'd have to be smart enough to keep up with all his witty banter. She would challenge him, frustrate him, and drive him absolutely mad. Surely someone like that existed somewhere. Maybe she could ask Sabin to be on the lookout for her during his travels.

_...that is, if he ever comes back._

_Why wouldn't he? _Terra saw she'd dropped a stitch. Annoyed with her own inattention, she hurriedly looped the yarn back around and tried again. She had made an effort to not think much of Sabin recently, if only because she always ended up puzzled and slightly cross. She didn't understand why she had been so cool to him when saying goodbye, as if she was totally indifferent to his visits. Of course, he hadn't been very open, either, but...

_Is he angry with me?_

_Why did I do that?_

"Mama?"

Toron stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He had been an infant when the earthquake struck and had little difficulty accepting Terra as his mother, but he still knew things had been different before. The older children worked hard to keep the memory of their parents alive.

"Toron! What is it?"

"My bed broke." He hung his head. "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to."

Terra was more amazed that his bed had even lasted that long. It was nothing more than an inverted cabinet drawer she'd fixed up when he outgrew his crib. "That's nothing to be ashamed of! Remember that big pile of wood I brought home? We can make you a new bed tomorrow. But for now..." She patted the side of her mattress. After all, he was just four. "Why don't you come keep me company?"

He happily climbed in bed next to her and cuddled against her lap. Within minutes he was asleep.

_Children are so wonderful and trusting...where would I be without them? _Terra stroked his hair. She only remembered her parents in retrospect, and yet here she was, a mother with a patchwork family. It felt so natural, as though everything in her life had led up to this. She hadn't ever wanted the role until it had been thrust upon her.

The concept fascinated her. How was it possible to want or need something without knowing it? How could someone know what they needed if they'd never experienced it before? Should everyone try to do as much as they could in order to recognize a need when it came along?

Even as the question floated around in her head she finally felt the first numbing tingle of sleep and drifted off.

**ooo**

Sabin had thought the disappearance of magic would make the people of Thamasa slightly less eccentric, since there would be nothing left to separate them from everyone else. But apparently the town's strangeness ran deeper than the magic in their blood, because they were as bizarre as ever.

"You again!" The innkeeper was out chopping wood by the docks, and he had a bone to pick with Sabin. "What do you want? What business do you have here? We're just fine without you! Why can't you just stay where you came from? You don't see me shoving around your land, you know!"

_Was Gau's father from Thamasa? _"Uh, right..."

"Hello, Mr. Braithwaite, you windbag!" Relm said in a spirited, sing-song voice. "Don't bother with this punk. He's just following along 'cause he's captivated by my charm. Where's Granddad?"

The crochety man gave a short, barking laugh. "Haggling down at the shops, last I saw. What were you doing out of town, anyway?"

"Just more art stuff. Thanks!" She set off at a run for the marketplace, and again Sabin lagged behind. Language aside, she still had a child's enthusiasm and earnest love for her grandfather. He could only hope that the kids in Mobliz would care for Terra just as much when they grew up and not become resentful of her having replaced their real parents. It would be irrational, ungrateful, and terrible, but it was also just the sort of attitude he'd had as a teenager after his father died. _I hated everyone, even Matron and Edgar..._

_...but ungrateful to Terra? _No, dammit, that wasn't allowed. If one of the kids so much as thought about it he would forcibly remove the idea. He reassured himself with the knowledge that they were all good kids, and wouldn't for a minute think of being cruel to her. Did he think he was being cruel to Matron? No, he was just angry and didn't want to have anything to do with the kingdom.

Sabin was amazed at how much of his own immaturity and selfishness had become so obvious in the process of bringing up kids. He could recognize the silly fibs he'd told, the erratic anxieties he'd had, and even the secret fears he'd never told anyone about. Now he saw them all, and it was humbling. He hadn't known the ups and downs of childhood were so universal. There were some experiences everyone had in common.

_Almost everyone..._

"Granddad!" Relm picked out the little red cape in the crowd. She latched onto Strago's wizened frame and kissed his forehead. "The cleverest, most talented, and all-around greatest girl in all the world is home!"

"Is that so? You'll have to tell me where she is, then," he murmured, touching her cheek with one of his mottled hands.

"You jerk!"

"Yes, yes, I know. Come, help this bag of bones carry the groceries home, hmm? And---" He finally looked up at Sabin and started. "Well, well! If it isn't the lesser of two evils. What brings you all the way down here?"

"Master Duncan, actually. His wife said he was down here. I was hoping to train with him for a while."

Strago cackled. "Keep reachin' for that star, son. Your master skipped town yesterday morning. At least you're not in a rush anymore, eh?"

It was a while before Sabin could even comprehend this latest blow of bad fortune. "He's..." _I just wasted a week of my life, I'm stranded at the end of the world until the next boat arrives, the only people around for miles are completely insane..._What would he do? "You're not kidding, are you?" he stammered.

"I couldn't make up something that good." Strago was taking advantage of his shock and loading him down with bags. "You too! Take this and this. It's good to know your generation is good for something. You might as well stay for us, since I don't think Mr. Braithwaite is too fond of you."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that."

"It's not personal, mind. He's got it out for all men around your age. His niece's husband was about that old when she died in childbirth. The scumbag skipped town, leaving Anton with a baby he couldn't afford to raise." Before Sabin could ask what happened to the child, Strago cleared his throat in an authoriative way that signaled the story was over. "Really, though, I'm surprised to see you. Locke tells me you've taken up an unusual vocation over the past few years."

"I wouldn't put it like that," he said, as carefully indifferent as he could manage. "I just try to help when I can. Locke tends to exaggerate things."

"Oh, yes, I'm aware. I suppose if you work as hard as he says, you deserve some time off. The children won't do any growing up in the meantime, so by all means, take as long as you want."

His pointed sarcasm was hard to miss, but the meaning behind it wasn't clear. "What are you implying?"

"I'll imply whatever I want. I might have wooden dentures and a bad knee, but I reckon I know a thing or two about being a surrogate father. It's not a commitment to be taken lightly."

"There isn't..." What was he on about? 'Father' wasn't the right word, and he hadn't made a commitment of any kind. Had he? "No, that's not it. I just help out around the house, that's all. It's not---"

Relm stamped impatiently. She was almost to the house on the hilltop and didn't look like she wanted to wait for them to catch up. "Are the two of you going to be annoying and slow all day? Why does it take you so long to do everything?"

"Grown-ups think more," Strago said cheerfully. "Don't worry. Someday you'll be an adult and paranoid about everything, too. Would you put on a little hot water for us old fogeys, or do you need to stretch those perfectly youthful limbs somewhere else?"

"You'll be lucky if I do anything at all," she said, but it was disobedience in word only.

Their home hadn't changed much since before the collapse of the world. The single notable difference in the knickknacks and decor was the quantity of art hung on the wall. Every square inch had part of a doodle, sketch or fully framed painting. For all the finished artwork (and many mildly offensive caricatures) of Strago, there wasn't a self-portrait in sight. It seemed the art itself was a better picture of Relm than any actual representation.

"I can't imagine Figaro is thrilled to have a bachelor of that age on the throne." Strago had settled down in an old creaky armchair with a cup of chamomile tea. Relm was upstairs recounting her adventures to old Interceptor. Like the old man, it seemed to have reconciled itself to spending its last years in quiet comfort.

Sabin reflexively sprang to his brother's defense. "No, but he's doing everything he can. There's a lot of pressure to make a quick decision, and he's never going to decide something like that without a lot of time."

"That's not what I've heard."

"Oh yeah? What have you heard?" As much as he wished people would have an iota of consideration for their personal lives, Sabin knew it wasn't possible. He'd given up the throne more than a decade ago and he was still a topic of common conversation.

"Quite a bit." He leaned forward with interest as though he had been waiting for the chance to indulge in genuine old-fashioned gossip. "They say that he'll go for days at a time without seeing anbody but that poor joker---not right, if you ask me; Gabbiani's a scoundrel---and they've started calling Edgar the King of Clubs for those damn queer soirées he has, and that he writes a letter a day to Jidoor to the Lady Globellia..."

"That's not true," he snapped, resenting Strago in that moment for finding such garbage repeatable. "And it's the Lady _Coppelia_, from Nikeah, not Jidoor. Then again," and he couldn't hold back a surly jab, "you always did mix up words."

" 'Always', eh? I suppose so. Heaven knows I've been eighty all my life."

It hadn't been a fair thing to say, but Sabin didn't feel quite guilty enough to recant. "So, um," he began, "do you know where Master Duncan went? Did he say he was going home?"

"No, he's in Mobliz."

Somehow he simultaneously inhaled and exhaled a mouthful of tea. He choked for a good minute before it was all out, spitting up grit into his hands. Strago was looking at him with ill-concealed satisfaction.

"Dear me, did I say Mobliz? I meant Narshe. Of course, I always did mix up words."

Relm's snappy vindictiveness suddenly made a whole lot more sense. "I guess I deserrved that," he admitted, if only because he couldn't stand the way Strago was _smirking_ at him. "But, uh, Narshe. That's good," he sputtered, as if he'd been suffocating by sheer coincidence. "I'll take the next boat out, then."

"Why so soon? Don't you need to help people in need? Speaking of need, my petunia garden's been spotty these past few seasons. Would you be able to...?"

"Is that why you're letting me stay with you? So I'll feel obligated to do your housework?"

"Maybe," he chortled, but there was a bitter sound to it. "Tell me about Mobliz."

The abrupt solemnity in his voice made Sabin uneasy. "Sure..." He started to describe the way the old shops had been converted into living space, livestock in the southern pastures, how everyone went to tend the fields in the morning and practice lessons in the afternoon. It was hard to talk in big, all-encompassing generalities when he was most impressed with the little things, like how Terra told bedtime stories and fixed cinnamon raisin toast on Sundays. The best thing he could say was that it felt like _home_.

"...but even in winter it's really nice, even if it's hard to get all the animals in the barn, because all the snow just sort of piles down around all the buildings and so we all have to go out on snowshoes..."

"Mmm, yes, I can just see the whole happy family at play."

Why did he keep pushing that? "The younger kids usually do, but the older ones help me gather and split firewood. You need a lot to heat a whole house."

"And does Terra stay inside with the girls, cooking a nice warm meal for everyone and cleaning up?"

"No, she goes out herself if she can. She really likes the outdoors."

"I see. And the older children, they're around what age? Are any of them teenagers?"

"A few. Most..." It was a hard subject to talk about. He couldn't bear the idea of children having made that kind of sacrifice. "A lot of them died trying to protect their siblings. Hannes is fourteen, which is the oldest besides Duane and Katarin."

"Do you think Terra would welcome another child in the home?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's always so---" A second passed before the meaning of his words sank in. Sabin looked up at Strago, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something like "you gullible fool!", but nothing happened. Strago simply sipped his tea.

"How long?" Sabin asked at last, his throat dry.

"No more than six months, I don't think. Besides, I really ought to give the neighbors a rest. I've been terrorizing them for three generations." He had the familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye again. "Funny to think of a girl like that as a mother, isn't it? Maybe it's because she always seemed like such a child herself. Still, though, she's always cared so much about other people. It's a good fit."

"Strago..." The room became unbearably stuffy. Sabin was unsettled by how casual it all seemed, like they were making arrangements for a vacation. The loud ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall agitated him. _It shouldn't be like this._

"And you'd look after her, wouldn't you? It would be hard at first, I know, but she really does respect you. It's just for a few years until she's old enough to make a living on her own."

He didn't know what to say. This responsibility seemed larger than all of Figaro. _He's not concerned with me because I'm...he thinks...the most precious thing in his life, in Terra's hands and mine..._

_What do I do?_

"Can you hold on for three more months?" Already he was calculating the amount of time it would take to go to Narshe, go to Mobliz, and come back again. There was no sense of panic or terror, just the grim calm of accepting the inevitable. _Adulthood._

"Three months, eh? Shouldn't be a problem, but I'm holding you to it. If you're so much as a second late I'll send the freckle-faced terror after you, so be on time, hmm?"

He was just able to crack a smile. Maturity _hurt_. "Don't worry."

**ooo**

Terra set down the saw with exasperation. She'd been hacking at the planks for almost an hour, but her handiwork hadn't gotten any less crooked. It was so hard to keep the cuts in line when she was barely heavy enough to support it with her body weight.

She was alone in the early hours before dawn, just as dew was just beginning to take shape from frozen droplets on the grass. She had already gotten a start on Toron's bed, the new cradle, and the patchwork for the roof, but it didn't feel like enough. Looking down at the messy edges was disheartening. _I wish all the other knives weren't so unwieldly._

An idea struck her and she glanced back at the house. Could she?

_Why not? I spent so long practicing. I know I can still do it._

_If nobody sees..._

After quashing a last stab of doubt she went into the house and retrieved her sword. It had been years since she'd held it and struck, holding tightly as it rumbled with a Flare spell. The old power was gone now, and it no longer hummed with the energy of the gods, but the blade hadn't changed.

Her first strike went a little bit too much to the left, but it was already better than anything she'd done with the saw. Cyan had taught her much of what she knew about wielding a sword. Celes never deigned to teach her directly, instead restraining herself to a rare comment or stiffly worded suggestion. Even Edgar had occasionally used a sword, not so proud as to think his complicated tools were always the best for the job. Terra believed she'd learned from the best.

She took a few more practice swings before going back to the planks. The cleanliness of her strikes surprised her. _I really haven't forgotten everything. _Soon she'd sliced all the way through half a stack of lumber. At this rate she could be done before sunrise.

The big projects were another story. Even with Dean's help she couldn't possibly hope to build a whole house. She didn't know how to dig a foundation or lay mortar. All she could hope to do was make as much progress as possible before wintertime and wait for---

_Maybe I'll ask Edgar._

The extent of her own stubbornness upset her. She was partly to blame, wasn't she? _I should've just said goodbye. Or thank you, for everything that you did. I don't know why I was so impolite..._

There was a loud crash like splitting beams, making Terra fumble her sword. A fishing boat had crashed against the thick shoals by the shore, and she could just see a desperate hand reaching up out of the water.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Wait! I'm coming!"

**ooo**

Sabin spent the next few days without more than a handful of thoughts for the future. It was too easy to latch onto a fear and nurture it until it grew into an unhealthy obsession; better, he thought, to forget it all and enjoy what little time they had. When the freight carrier finally came, he hugged both of his friends close and assured them he'd return before the year was out. "Just for a visit," he'd told Relm, who didn't understand why he would be coming back so soon. "Maybe I'll bring all the guys with me, huh? I bet they'll be impressed with how grown-up you are."

"Ew, no!"

The ship chugged away, and Thamasa was no more than a clump of green on the horizon. Sabin couldn't help wondering at the changes in his own life. Two years ago he wouldn't have been able to fathom such a request, but now he'd accepted it almost unquestioningly.

_Where have I been? What's happened to me? _He realized he still didn't know Relm very well even after all these years. Why had Strago looked at him and Terra and made his decision?

He thought of his brother, newly married and surrounded by a whole host of new advisors; and Relm, utterly alone. He thought of the labyrinthine Castle Figaro and the ruins of Mobliz.

_Edgar... there are people in the world who need me, who need me more..._

_Promise me you'll stay strong._


	10. Chapter X

**X. In Which Women Are Temporarily Neglected To Showcase The Lives Of Great Men**

**ooo**

Sabin couldn't have asked for an easier journey out of Thamasa---the boat came quickly, the weather was mild, and there were no crazy mountain men swinging their guns and hollering for him to get off their land---but the trip still seemed to take ages. Now there was so much for him to _do_.

He'd have to tell Terra, of course. If he spent a month training with Master Duncan, he'd have plenty of time to visit Mobliz and talk to her before going back. He could already imagine the mixture of fright and sadness in her voice: _That can't be...oh, no, poor Relm..._He knew she wouldn't hesitate to open her arms and home. Terra would adopt the world if she could.

_You made the right choice, Strago. But I..._

The sight of Narshe's staggering mountains was more comforting than intimidating. Sabin knew most of the cold, slippery rock and treacherous fissures. Even after the earthquakes, he could spot where the old cliffs had been and navigate accordingly.

He never stopped to think about it, but there really was a lot of stuff he knew. For all the times he cursed his own stupidity, there were occasions when he was surprised with his abilities. When Claude had gotten lost in the woods, Sabin found him in less than an hour just going by trampled twigs and grass. He could treat snakebites, burn wounds and sprained ankles. For some reason it had never seemed important before, but now he was almost...well, useful.

"Hah! Hoh! Training is the form of virtue!" Master Duncan's booming voice echoed for miles around the rocks. Sabin liked knowing that it wasn't a pretension of teaching. The man really did talk that way all the time. "To train is to praise God!"

"Master..." Sabin took a deep breath and cautiously stepped out from his spot in the shadows. "I'm back. I'm here to train with you."

"Well, well, well! What brings you back so soon?"

_Because I need order in my life. Because I need to know if I'm going crazy. Because I need to remember what it is I'm supposed to do. _"Uh, I thought it would help, that's all." Hiding the truth from Master was never an option, but he wasn't ready to say everything just yet. At some point he would just blurt it out. He had never been good at keeping things bottled up.

"We'll train, then!" he said jovially. "I certainly won't pass up the opportunity. I'm just surprised you don't have other commitments."

"N-no, I...I mean, yes, but not yet. I have time. And besides, this...this is where I should be. This is what's most important." It didn't feel true even as he said it. What had happened to him? How could he possibly question his place after more than a decade? How could anything be more important to him than practice? It was an outrage, practically a sacrilege, and yet...

"Put down your bags. We're going to the summit."

Master Duncan wasted no time and Sabin was glad for it. If he couldn't find answers, the least he could do was not think about the questions. There wasn't room for personal doubt when climbing barehanded.

He started up as he always had, soon feeling the familiar soreness of sharp crags against his palms. Any pride he felt in the ease with which he set to work was tempered by the master's effortless, sprightly pace. _How long have I been this slow? Am I really that out of shape?_

_Focus. Just focus._

It felt good to work against an unyielding opponent. The mountain didn't care whether or not he tripped, didn't complain when he struck too hard, and didn't judge him for his weaknesses. He could hit it till he bled and not leave so much as a scratch. It was inflexible and uncaring and just what he needed.

They climbed in two-hour stretches, pausing only when absolutely necessary, and then for no more than ten minutes at a time. Master Duncan wouldn't even permit him to break for a meal. "Hungry?" he'd roared when Sabin had dared to ask. "Did I give you permission to be hungry? This isn't cushy castle living, boy! You're not going to have any cream soups and filet mignon while you're here!"

He hadn't been thinking of either. He would've been content with something simple---a peach, maybe, or a lone slice of tomato on toast; anything to stave off the dizziness and altitude sickness. He felt like he was lost in a fog.

It wasn't until well after sunset that they broke camp. They pitched two tents on a plateau near the western peaks. Sabin spent some time silently appreciating the stillness of the valley at night. The rising moon cast a swath of white light over the hilltops, cold but calm. He hoped all the world was really as serene as it looked from here.

_Is that why I train? To sit around and wish for peace as opposed to making it? Didn't I swear to "give myself beyond the boundaries of man"?_

"You're much faster than you used to be. Your recent work has paid off."

_Is it selfish to want to be stronger? In the end, Vargas only wanted strength for strength's sake._

"But your endurance leaves something to be desired. Look at your eyes! When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

_I want to protect the people I love._

_Is that enough?_

A heavy boot slammed him hard in the back and he fell headfirst down the cliffside. "Willful disobedience!" the master shouted. "You would ignore me?"

"I didn't..." Sabin began, but he was too busy scrambling for a foothold in the midst of jagged rocks. At last he caught himself on a crevasse and bent over, gasping for breath. For a few desperate seconds he really had feared for his life.

Master Duncan glowered at him from his place on the ledge. "How dare you show such disrespect! Do you think age affords you exemption? If you can't respect your superiors, you have no business with me! Go!"

For a fleeting moment far more terrifying than any amount of near death experiences, he considered it. "Yes, master," he said, forcibly shoving the thought out of his mind as he set back up again.

Even after such a stinging reprimand (and the brief surge of rebelliousness) Sabin still had trouble paying attention. He didn't care about flinging rotten stumps into the river, regardless of how good it would be for his arms. He wanted to do real work with results he could see.

Sabin could tell his impatience was aggravating the master, but didn't quite know how to explain the reason for his anxiety. He couldn't bring up his newfound obligation without getting nauseous. Two weeks passed before he was able to explain everything it was he'd been feeling.

"I don't know what's going on," he said.

"Oh, so?"

"Uh?"

Two hours after midnight, he reflected, was probably not a particularly opportune time to talk about his problems. They were meditating in the tripod position beside a scant campfire. Master Duncan had appeared to be deep in thought, but he was listening intently as ever. His presence of mind was astonishing.

"Is that all?" he said sharply.

"No. Master, I..." Sabin swallowed. "I don't know when I'll be able to come back." _What am I saying? I swore to put the order above all things, forever._

_I was only fourteen when I made that vow. Does that make it any less binding? How could I have known then that I would be here today?_

_Is it really impossible to uphold my creed and keep my promise to Strago?_

"I never asked for your unwavering devotion," Master Duncan said, his face obscured by the flickering firelight. "If you believe your work is better served elsewhere, then so be it. That's for you to decide. You know the callings of God are as varied as His creations."

Sabin couldn't have asked for a more accepting response, but he still wasn't satisfied. Shouldn't the master be more disappointed or berating him for his failure? "You don't think it's more important that I keep training?"

"You don't."

Somehow the accusation in those two words was worse than any amount of furious ranting. "I didn't plan to," he said lamely.

"Would you find it more honorable if you had?"

_Would I?_ Maybe not, but at least then he wouldn't have been so surprised. "I guess I just feel like I'm deserting my training. This has always mattered more than anything else in the world, and suddenly..."

"Suddenly! There is no sudden in this world. Even the unexpected can be foreseen from another's perspective. Your opinion today is the result of many small inclinations that only now came to persuade you."

"My opinion is the result of someone else's need," Sabin blurted, as if emphasis and volume would make it true. The idea that Strago's incredible, life-changing decision had really only sped up the inevitable made him queasy.

"So you say."

The fire popped as it sprang to the lower logs. A few stray sparks on Sabin's cheek made him wonder when he'd last shaved. Without a mirror readily available (unlike Edgar, who always carried two and a spare sewn into his sleeve), he tended to forget it was necessary. It wasn't until he would arrive at Mobliz and unintentionally terrify the children that it even crossed his mind.

"Go."

He lost balance, wobbled, then toppled over. The rush of blood away from his head was dizzying. "M, master?"

"Tomorrow morning you will leave, attend to your responsibilities as you see fit and return only when you are sure of your place. At present you waste your time and mine."

_I shouldn't be away, not when I haven't even told Terra about Relm..._

_I haven't even told Terra about Relm! _The more he thought about it, the more it made him cringe. It had already been three weeks since he'd left Thamasa. What if something happened to Strago? What if something had already happened?

_What am I doing here! _"No..." Sabin yanked at the tarp of his tent and pulled the stake from the ground. "I've got to leave tonight. You're right, I'll be back later, but now---"

"You will do no such thing!" Master Duncan thundered. Despite the brusque tone of voice, there was no hostility in it, and it was clear that the time for serious lecturing had passed. "Stay here and at least try to rest. If you had your way you'd walk all night, get lost around Albrook, and then punish yourself by not sleeping until you either arrive or pass out in a ditch. Be reasonable, boy."

Sabin was humbled but thankful to be back on familiar ground. He didn't know if he was ready to be treated as an equal to the man who had essentially raised him. "Yes, master. Thank you."

"Ohoho! In the old days you would rush around, do something foolish, and then come crying to me when you got hurt. It hasn't changed so much, has it?...only now you're raising children instead of taping snakes to walls." He laughed heartily. "Get some sleep. You deserve it."

"Yes, master," he repeated. It occurred to him that he'd never once questioned the man's judgment. _He really is the wisest person in the world._

_Where would I be without his guidance? Where do I want to be? _After setting the tent back in place Sabin crawled inside and lay down. _Where..._That was a given if he'd ever known one. He rolled over on the tarp, thinking of spaetzle, kuchen, and a whole host of little hands grabbing curiously at his beard.

**ooo**

Dawn arrived with a dramatic flourish as though to speed Sabin on his way. Although he wasn't in the mood to tarry, he spent a half-hour stumbling around beneath the blinding sun and its fierce heat. The rocks soon became hot to the touch, leaving him with no alternative but to climb down with quick, clipped movements that sent pebbles spraying in all directions. By the time he'd reached the foot of the mountain he was covered in scrapes.

Well. It was time to go straight to Mobliz and get things settled. He had no more excuses, no more delays. There was nothing keeping him from being there in a week, maybe less, except for his feet inexplicably refusing to move.

_It's too soon._

_Is it? It's been two months. _What if she didn't want to see him? Should he give some kind of advance notice? Right then he envied Edgar and his ability to send couriers wherever he wanted to go. Everything was less complicated with a neutral party to help smooth things over.

He'd never bothered to ask permission in the past. Terra hadn't ever been annoyed with him for coming. But that was ancient history, ages before he'd held her close and heard her say _'friend' doesn't seem like enough..._

A letter. He would write a letter, maybe with a casual suggestion that he might stop by for a visit, and if that was fine by her, he could go ahead and be on his way. He didn't think she'd say no, of course (_or would she?_), but a word from her first might at least make him feel better.

Should he mention Strago? _No. She deserves to hear that straight from me. She deserves to know. When I get there, I can tell her everything. _Yes, a letter was the right thing to do. It was informal but polite, and he'd have a chance to gauge how she felt about his coming back. He could even get to work on it right now. Sabin started whistling a tune and set out for the one place in the world that delivered letters to Mobliz.

_Dear_---no, that was out of the question. He wasn't fond of the greeting, anyway. Just "Terra" was fine. _How are you? Are the kids all right? I've been all the way down to Thamasa, I'll tell you about it the next time I'm around. I had thought I'd come see you in the next few weeks, if that'd be all right. I'll be in Maranda for a while, so you can send a let__ter there. _Was that relaxed enough? Did the "I had thought" sound too premeditated? Should he stick a "maybe" in there to make it less decisive?

That was only a few sentences. Would another couple lines be okay? It couldn't hurt to know if Simon was still wearing a cast or if Vale kept picking on everyone else, although it couldn't be as much fun as listening to the kids themselves. He liked to hear their stories, which were so long-winded, wildly exaggerated and outrageously silly. It always made him grin and want to toss in a few anecdotes of his own. His life had been ridiculous enough to the point where he didn't need to make anything up.

At the southern border of Narshe he caught a boat to Corlingen, and from there took another straight to Maranda. Sabin realized he hadn't done this kind of traveling since the old days. He remembered how they would go across the whole earth on foot, then double back at the first signs of a new crisis. Back then, he reflected, it had been more about the journey than anything that happened at their destination. There was no time to share thoughts or feelings while fighting off whole squadrons of soldiers, but they often passed the slow hours by just talking. Setzer liked to recall some of his more fantastic victories around the table, whereas Locke tended to ramble on and eventually forget what he was talking about. Surprisingly, the best stories came from Gogo. "Although I myself was not present," it would say, "the tale is mine, for it is this veil that bore witness to acts of the traitorous queen..."

Both lengthy boat trips gave Sabin plenty of opportunities to write and rewrite his letter. By the time he set foot in Maranda, a full thirty-eight drafts later, he was sure he knew what he wanted to say.

Without an airship dock, harbor, or even telegraph wires, modern communication to Mobliz was impossible. Maranda was the only town in the world that employed all of these and an older, albeit far slower, method that guaranteed delivery anywhere.

"Good afternoon! May I...ah!"

Sabin blinked. The woman behind the counter had turned away as soon as she saw him. "Uh," he stammered, somewhat uneasy at having to talk to her back, "are any of the pigeons in? I wanted to send a letter to Mobliz."

"Yes, that's fine. You can just leave it on the counter. I'll make sure it gets sent out tonight."

_Why won't she look at me? _"Thanks. How much do I owe?"

"Just a hundred gil, th-that's all." The way her voice trembled was familiar, and he remembered where he'd seen her before. It had been here in Maranda, just three years prior, when she had sat in her living room and spilled her heart out to a group of strangers.

"I wouldn't let myself think he was gone, even though I knew it was true. I wrote every day. As long as I wrote, it felt like he really was still alive, somewhere far from here. And then, when the letters started coming back, I realized it didn't matter who was writing them. I could imagine it was him and never let go..." She'd buried her head in her hands and sobbed. "You must think I'm so weak."

He had empathized with her then. Who could be blamed for not wanting to believe in a broken world? Now, watching her pointedly avoid his gaze, he empathized even more strongly with her sense of embarrassment.

"I really appreciate it," he said slowly. "I don't know how else I'll tell her that...well, I guess that doesn't really matter." He cleared his throat. "It's, um...it's...never mind."

Lola turned over her shoulder with a slight smile. "Of course. I'll make sure it gets there safely."

He smiled back and left the makeshift post office. With that out of the way, there was nothing left to do but settle in and wait. Sabin stopped by the inn, bought a room, and headed off for the bar. He was hoping for a greasy platter of fish and chips to lift his mood.

Unlike the sloppy, seedy gin joints that had sprung up in ruined buildings after the earthquakes, Maranda's bar was more or less respectable. There were no dancers in red taffeta or snarling drunkards, just a few run-down game tables watched by the barmen. Having always known the bar as a peaceful place, Sabin was stunned to walk in on the beginning of a brawl.

"You cheating son of a bitch!" A red-faced man in patched trousers swung his fists wildly, but the object of his wrath was surrounded by a crowd. "That was a fixed deck! My money...my house...you _bastard!_"

"I don't recall forcing you to bet either. As for the deck, have a look for yourself. Every card is legitimate."

Sabin recognized the low, nonchalant tone of voice at once.He discreetly took a seat in the corner and waited for it to blow over.

"Like I should believe anything you say!" the man bawled. Two of his companions had grabbed hold of his arms, but he continued to struggle. "Your type doesn't need cards, you've got...wires, or cameras, or something!"

"Listen, Alain, all I've got is a good eye and a winning streak. If you want to talk about real odds, there's---Sabin?"

The image of a quiet dinner alone disappeared like wisps of smoke. _Don't be angry, don't be angry, realize God has different plans..._ "Oh, hey, Setzer," he managed through grit teeth.

"What brings you here? It's not like there are hordes monsters around."

"You're not finished with me yet! You stole everything I own!" Alain howled.

"Who stole anything?" Setzer said indignantly. "You set the stakes. Don't play a gentleman's game if you aren't planning to keep your word. Although, as the winner, I have certain duties." He loosed the silk scarf around his neck and tossed it to Alain. "Take this and let's call it even. I'd rather you be fashionable than broke."

With that, he turned back around and took a seat beside Sabin like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then again, in Setzer's world, maybe that kind of easygoing magnanimity was normal. Everything about the gambler was unreadable, unpredictable, and ambiguous. Sabin didn't doubt that he had a sense of morals, but he also didn't think that he'd ever understand what they were.

"You really think you're an artist, huh?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a philosopher. Poker is just the beginning of my language." Setzer took advantage of the bartenders' surprise and snapped his fingers for another round of drinks. "Of course, not everyone holds the rules in such high regard. Your brother, for one. He'll bend over backwards for any kind of crazy setup that gives him half a chance. He doesn't like to lose."

That was true enough: Edgar had always been much too competitive for his own good. In his over-romanticized imagination, every challenge became a direct affront to the people of Figaro. "I'm glad you're looking out for his best interests."

"But of course. Anyway, what brings you to Maranda? Wait, wait, don't tell me. It's your usual mission of spreading justice and helping old ladies cross the street, am I right?"

"Sending a letter. What's your excuse?"

"Oh, just on my way north for some airship repair." He leaned over the table with a sly smirk. "And _why_ have you come all the way here to send a letter, hmm?"

Any other time Sabin would have been willing to play along, but right now it was intolerable. "I don't know," he shot back, glad he hadn't forgotten everything he'd learned about the Falcon. "Why are you going north for airship repair when your shipyard's in Jidoor?"

Setzer paused. "Touché," he said agreeably, pouring out a shot. "Have a drink. It's good for what ails you! Well, as long as it's not liver failure."

They spent the next half-hour bonding silently over alcohol and fried potatoes. There was nothing to do except recognize that they would both rather be somewhere else and take solace in their common ground.

The bar door swung open and struck the wall with a loud _bang_. "Why, by the gods!" cried the newcomer. "Can it be? Do mine eyes deceive me?"

"Oh dear God," Setzer muttered.

Cyan pulled up a chair and sat beside them, completely oblivious to their discomfort. "What an extraordinary coincidence! Just last week I encountered young Sir Gau outside of Zozo."

Sabin paused between bites of fish. "Yeah? How's he doing?"

"Well as can be expected. He's compassionate and considerate as always, but insists he's very misunderstood. As of yesterday he's endeavoring a journey to 'find himself', as most adolescent boys do. I wished him great success."

He spoke with an understanding that made the younger men ashamed for shunning his company. Cyan hadn't been middle-aged all his life; he knew what it was like to be hot-blooded, heartbroken, or simply confused.

_And Gau is seventeen...the time I left Edgar, home, and everything I ever knew..._ Where had the time gone since their first meeting at the Beast Plains, when a skinny kid had hauled them to safety? How was it possible to grow up healthily in the middle of a world war? Sabin pushed the thought aside and turned back to the general conversation.

"...pretty good for the most part. He's latched on to this crazy notion that Corlingen should settle more land to keep the farmers in business. The guy really thinks all their problems will be solved if they go west! I keep telling him it's not going to make a difference if the soil's bad, but he won't listen, and for some insane reason he's actually almost respectable in town so people are listening to him..."

"I must say the idea appears to have some merit."

"What, you too? The man can't even remember how to put on his pants half the time!"

"If it's foolish to believe in him then I shall gladly count myself amongst the fools. He may have difficulty with buttons, but he's never once given me cause for disappointment. I support him wholeheartedly." He struck the table to underline his point. "So! What brings you fine gentlemen to this humble town? Are you here for business, or more leisurely pursuits?"

Sabin and Setzer exchanged a look.

"We were in the neighborhood," Setzer said flippantly. "What about you? What reason could you possibly have for hanging around a place like this?"

Cyan opened his mouth to answer, frowned, and glanced around the bar. "You know," he remarked, "I do believe a reunion such as this calls for some measure of celebration. Would either of you care for wine?"

**ooo**

The next several days were spent awkwardly dropping by the post office, but a full two weeks passed before the pigeon returned. "I know it's slow, but it's always worth it," Lola sang, holding out the letter. It was obvious she wanted him to read it right there and watch his reaction. "Would you like to send out another one?"

Sabin took the letter from her and undid the seal with fumbling hands. "No, that'll be all. I, uh...thanks a lot." He gave a small wave and hurried out. Now he would know whether or not he would go back to Mobliz and if all his concern had been for nothing.

_Of course you should come back! I don't know why you felt like you had to write. You're always welcome here and I'm sorry if I did something to make you feel that you weren't. The children have so many things they want to tell you about! Please come soon __so you can hear it all before they forget._

_I want to see you again. _

Terra's erratic, slightly loopy handwriting seemed to float off the page. She hadn't been able to read or write when she first met Locke, but she was eager to learn. Reading was a freedom the Empire never allowed her to have.

Within minutes Sabin was packed up and on his way. He figured it was probably a good idea to leave while he'd only had two minorly humiliating run-ins, but a brightly colored hat in a store window arrested his attention. _I probably shouldn't..._

Come to think of it, there were plenty of things he probably shouldn't have done. The letter, for one; she'd blamed herself for his uncertainty. He also probably shouldn't have left Edgar without telling him everything. He probably shouldn't have been so thickheaded with the master, either.

He couldn't change the things he'd done, but at the least he was going to start setting them right.

Once again he whiled away the time on the boat with a letter, even though it only made him feel more guilty. The word "back" had been scratched over something else. What had it been? She didn't sound angry so much as hurt that he had thought it necessary to write. Would he be able to explain it to her? Yes, damn it, he had to. He couldn't keep it to himself any more.

He'd spent so long picturing Mobliz in his mind he could hardly believe it when he saw the old shore side barn. It really was here. After so many months (well, only three, but each month had felt more like a year), this was it.

The early frost had made every post, plank and blade of grass sparkle with a crisp, chaste sheen. Some heavy stones had been laid for the beginning of a house by the shoals. Mobliz wasn't being rebuilt anymore, it was _building, _making a fresh start. "A single family hardly constitutes a 'village'," the Duke Lindoro had scoffed, and maybe it didn't, but that didn't make their achievements any less important. If anything, it was even more incredible that such a small group of people had been able to come so far

"Mr. Sabin!" Dmitri had spotted him from the top of the hill. "Mr. Sabin!" he yelled, running down to meet him. Some of the other children heard his shouting and followed suit. Sabin braced for impact. _Three...two...one..._

He let himself fall backwards into a pile of six little kids tugging in every direction. "Hey! How are you all?"

"I lost a tooth!"

"I lost _two_ teeth!"

"I fed the cows!"

"I was sick for a whole week!"

"Sounds pretty exciting," he grinned, and scooped them up so they squealed and shrieked. "Let's go see Mama, huh? I bet she could use some help with dinner."

Even with a stuffed backpack and a hundred squirming pounds in either arm, he felt almost light. He listened to their dramatic renditions of individual triumphs as they made their way back to the house. Strago was right; a few monotonous months was enough time for endless epic adventures in the life of a child. He really had missed out on important things.

Sabin managed to open the door with his free hand and paused to enjoy the sight. The kitchen was busy with sensation. A steady fire burned under the biggest iron stockpot, which threatened to bubble over with tomato soup. Claude and Lue were chopping up onions while Duane nervously lit the skillet. It was loud, chaotic, and absolutely wonderful.

"Sabin? Is that you?"

Terra peered in from the stairwell. She clutched an old broom tightly in both hands. "I...I'm glad you're back," she said, smiling slightly.

He needed to say something clever, but it was hard to think of anything with six different chattering voices around his head. He knelt to safely lower the children to the floor. "Uh, I think these belong to you."

She laughed. "Well, now that you mention it..."

"Who's out there, Terra?"

Sabin looked up as the little mob disentangled itself from his grip. The voice didn't belong to Locke, Setzer or anyone he recognized. "Who's that?"

"Oh! Oh, yes. We have a visitor." She motioned for him to follow her to the living room. Sitting on the old couch was a lean younger man with a few days' stubble. "This is Private Macilvain from the international patrol force. He was sailing by a while ago and crashed his boat, so we brought him in. He came around again just last week, only he'd hurt his legs in another accident, so he's staying here until he can walk again."

Macilvain cocked his head at Sabin. "Yeah, and you're...?"

"An old friend," he said flatly, staring back. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn't being introduced, he was being evaluated. _He sees me as a threat...to what?_

"You a straggler too?" Macilvain asked. He gave him a would-be friendly wink. "Or is this your home?"

"Actually..." He decided a change of plans was in order. "I'm not going to stay or anything. I might come back in a month or so, but I only have time for dinner tonight. I just wanted to drop by and see how everyone was doing."

Terra dropped the broom. "Sabin! What...?"

"I can see why you'd do that," the man agreed. "Terra makes some of the best stew I've ever had anywhere on the continent. She ought to open a restaurant, that's what I say."

"Speaking of restaurants," Duane announced as he fanned away a pillar of smoke, "dinner is ready!"

Even though the bacon had been burnt to charcoal, Sabin couldn't think of the last time he'd eaten so well. Something about a big, crowded table and a nonstop stream of "nuh-uh! You did not!"s made it all taste better. The only drawback came in having to explain his sudden departure. He came up with a quick, lighthearted story about something very important he'd left behind in Thamasa and how he'd be back as soon as he could find it again. The kids assailed him with guesses ("Can you wear it on your head?" "Is it colorful?" "Do we get to eat it?"), but he deftly sidestepped their questions. "Don't worry," he promised. "You'll find out soon enough."

Eventually his repeated assurances were enough to content them---all but Terra, whose pensive distress nearly made him cave in. After supper he gathered his belongings, said his goodbyes and was just out the door when Terra stopped him.

"Why are you leaving?"

As much as he'd wanted to avoid it, he should've known it would be impossible. Sabin turned around and prepared for the worst. Her expression hit him a lot harder than any number of sugar-fueled children who wanted a hug. "It's just for a while, okay?"

"But..."

If she kept this up he might not leave at all. "Do you trust me?" he asked abruptly.

"What? Of course! Sabin, I..." She anxiously curled a lock of hair around her finger. "I just wish you'd tell me what's going on."

_You don't deserve this, but I don't know how else to be sure._ Maybe there wasn't anything going on at all, maybe he was just reading too much into minor details. He didn't know how to articulate what it was like to be instinctively attuned to every word and gesture he saw. "It'll be fine, okay?" He tried to smile, but for some reason he wasn't sure it came out right. "It'll be fine." When she said nothing more, he turned back around and walked away. The door closed behind him.

_I'm sorry._

He was only a handful of steps past the fence when he felt a tug on his pants. Vale had followed him out, bundled up under a thick winter overcoat and fur hat.

"You're not_ really_ leaving, are you?"

Sabin crouched to look straight at him. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think you should give me fifty gil to not tell."

No wonder he was Setzer's favorite. "I think you should go back inside and take care of Mama. And I know you'll do it without complaining because it's very important. Helping others is a reward in itself."

"Okay." Vale gave a big sigh, as though overcome with the weight of his burden. "It's lucky for you that I'm so good at keeping secrets."

"It sure is." Sabin ruffled his hair and watched him trudge back inside. When the door shut a second time, he felt genuinely ready. It was time to get to work---the kind of slow, tedious work he hated most, but also the most important.

It was time to wait.


	11. Chapter XI

**XI. In Which There Is Significant Action and Subsequent Drama**

** ooo**

Sabin looked over his shoulder as he walked away, watching the little house and dilapidated old barn fade into the distance. The smell of tomato soup wafted away around the shores, and soon he was alone again.

Judging from the rising moon it was just past seven o'clock. He had at least four hours to spare. No, not spare: bide. This wasn't a leisurely stroll. Hell, if any of his impressions could be trusted, tonight would be the most important thing he'd done in ages.

Both Master Duncan and Edgar had chided him for being so distracted. Now he was paying attention, and he didn't like what he saw. He'd spent years learning to gauge adversaries by their most minute gestures.

_I've never met anyone who can accurately assess a situation half as fast. _Compliment notwithstanding, Sabin wanted to be wrong. The alternative was too terrible to believe. On the other hand, if he didn't believe it, he wouldn't be camping out on the rocks.

Being too hasty would ruin his plans, but being slow would invite disaster. Timing was key. In the meantime, he could meditate on his goal.

_Lord, let me be mistaken. And if I'm not..._ He visualized Terra tucking her little charges into bed with the customary goodnight kisses and tender hugs. _At least let everyone be safe._

Thoughts of the children blurred with the surrounding landscape. He could hear their giggles on the wind and see their eyes in glittering pieces of quartz. In everything was Terra, warm and green and comforting, and the barrage of sensations made him sweat. When was the last time he had been able to really meditate? When had he last wanted to? He tried to sort through the images, only to end up more overwhelmed.

_Relax. They're going to be fine. _How long had he been thinking of himself as responsible for the family? Master Duncan was right; he'd been going in this direction ever since his first visit to Mobliz. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened, or what it meant that he cared so much, but he didn't really mind, either. All he knew was that he'd started by visiting a friend and somewhere along the way he'd picked up sixteen kids. Maybe Edgar could borrow a couple to keep Parliament off his back.

Even if things had been going this way (_what way?_) for three years, he still didn't know how it had happened. Why had it taken a trip to Figaro to understand that he belonged somewhere else? He hadn't understood anything until everyone started saying what he should've known all along. How could he have been so oblivious to something so important (_but what?_)?

_You just don't think! _That was the source of most of his life's problems, really. Sabin preferred to feel, cherish, and _do_ things before he thought about them. Life was too short and too fast to sit around considering possibilities. Reflecting was for later, for remembering how great it all had been. There was no point in thinking about something he hadn't even done.

_If you ever applied half the information you pick up on..._Well, that was what he was trying to do here. He only wished all of the information he'd gathered would lead in another direction. The conclusion he had filled him with dread.

He noticed the moon almost directly above him and turned around. He walked slowly, lightly, and silently, focusing every molecule on the task at hand. When he caught sight of the village he was so intent on his goal that he didn't give a thought to anyone inside. Anyone but---

Sabin knelt by the entrance, holding his breath. The moonlight was just bright enough to provide an unobstructed view of the kitchen. He could see the cooking pots, the bookshelf-table, herbs hung against the wall---and a dark, lean figure at work. He strangled the urge to burst in swinging and calmly opened the front door.

The man called Macilvain glanced up. He was bent lithely (_hurt his legs, huh?_) over a lumpy burlap sack on the floor. His eyes flashed, but he immediately turned away.

"I had a feeling you'd be back," he said.

There was a pause. "You tried it anyway."

"What can I say? I've always been the confident type," he grinned, spreading his arms as though to invite an opinion. "But if you don't mind my asking, where did I go wrong?"

"You want a list?"

"It might help to know for future reference." He moved to hoist the bag over his shoulders, but stopped short when he saw Sabin's expression. "What, can't a man make a living?"

The anger he felt became cold loathing. "This family is poor. They can't buy, sell, or even trade. How can you take what little they have?"

"Poor?" Macilvain repeated incredulously. He pulled the Ragnarok out of the bag, followed by a familiar-looking bustier and a few necklaces. "Do you have any idea how much these are worth? They could settle for half a lifetime with just one ring!"

"They're hers."

"They're the last relics from the Age of Gods! These aren't just weapons and armor, they're...they're _treasure_!"

He was clearly desperate, switching tacks in hopes of finding anything that would save his neck. Only one person on earth was innocent enough to believe something so idealistic, and Sabin had personally washed his pants after a long night at the bars. The man wasn't a criminal; he was an actor, and a lousy one at that.

"You repaid the person who helped you by---"

"Whoa, whoa! Give me some credit! I'm a hired man," he said, thumping his chest with pride. "But it's as she said. I was out scouting when I wrecked my boat, and she took me in. A couple weeks later I came back down to do the job."

"Get out."

"Sure." He picked up the bag again with a would-be menacing smirk. "It's not worth it, by the way. I might not be the most convincing guy out there, but I know enough to travel armed. Besides, you don't seem like this is worth all that much to you. I'm sure you don't think it's worth more than anyone in this house."

Although Macilvain was eager to assume as many personas as he could, Sabin could tell he was no murderer. It was more empty pandering, intended to shock him into submission. Worse yet, any struggle inside would almost certainly wake the children. He had to yield on this one.

"You're right," Sabin stammered. He tried to mask the contempt in his tone with fear. "I...I couldn't ever risk their safety."

"Didn't think so," the other crowed. " 'Course, I'd appreciate it if you stayed in the living room. I might have a ten-inch blade, but I'd rather not take my chances."

_He knows I would beat him, but he's counting on me being slow._ "Yes." He stepped away, bowing his head. The other man swaggered past, loot and all, and disappeared into the night.

Sabin waited seven precise seconds before charging after him. He succumbed to pure adrenaline, unaware of his surroundings even as he flung open the door with enough force to tear it off its hinges. He moved with the easy grace of a hunting animal, and for an instant he relished his unfettered energy. The world outside his target ceased to exist.

In a few short bounds he'd caught up to the thief, who was scrambling towards a rowboat on the shore. The motions of seizing, tackling and subduing were so smooth as to seem like a training exercise. It wasn't until he heard Macilvain's voice between shallow, ragged gasps that the primal instinct dissipated.

"Almost made it," he was panting. "Just a little further..."

"You almost got away with stealing from orphans. Are you proud of that?" It should have been a lot easier to take the situation in stride with his opponent in a choke hold, but he didn't feel any better. The slightest flex of his forearms would end things for good, and he couldn't help but question if he'd find it satisfying. _Death as judgment..._?

He recalled a rainy day in South Figaro when he had found Vargas ankle-deep in blood and surrounded by corpses. "Why should I assume everyone is equally capable of making decisions?" he'd shouted. "Why should I even assume everyone is equal at all? Are you saying I should have respected the lives of bandit scum? They were terrorizing the townspeople!"

_When is it right to decide who lives and dies? When does it stop becoming the defense of others and personal justice? _

_You would have killed Edgar, Terra, Locke, and even me._

_But this man..._

Sabin abruptly loosed his grip and rose, sickened by his loss of self-control. Why had he been so blinded by passion as to contemplate _murder? _Even if it was just an idle thought, it spoke volumes about his lack of discipline. No one had been in any danger. The threats were only arrogance and bravado. What was the loss of a few items in comparison with everyone's safety?

In the end it was a matter of principle. The act itself was reprehensible, but the idea was a lot more stomach-turning. How could anyone take advantage of a family that worked so hard to make ends meet? How could anyone live alongside them while doing it?

_What right do I have to be so incensed?_ he wondered. _I didn't have a mother. Both my uncles were executed for trying to kill Father, and most of my cousins committed treason. We had just as many internal wars as external ones. _

_I never had anything like a loving family, so why do I care so much about protecting this one?_

It belatedly occurred to him that he'd answered his own question.

"Private Macilvain! What happened? Are you...Sabin?" Terra hurried towards them, barefoot and shivering in a flimsy cotton camisole. "I thought the wind had blown open the door, and then I heard..." She noticed the half-opened satchel. "What's going on? Do you need help?"

He'd made no effort to escape this time; he had apparently resigned to a slow and painful punishment. He lay flat on the ground, massaging his neck. "Oh, Terra," he wheezed. "I'm glad. I wanted to see you one more time before I left."

"Get up," Sabin spat disgustedly.

"Sabin! Why are you being so---" Her mouth opened in surprise as Macilvain reluctantly stood up. She squinted into the patches of light. "Without your crutches...are you better?"

Only Terra could look at a near-stranger with suddenly perfect limbs and have no suspicions. She could more easily believe a miracle than a lie._ You really are too good for this world. _

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said, sounding less than contrite. "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. I especially didn't want you to get involved." Then, like a nobleman performing a deed of great charity, he graciously held out the bag. "These are yours, aren't they?"

She took the bag and shifted it to one knee for a better look. "My old corsets?...and pendants, and armor, too. What is all this doing here? Were you...were you going to _take_ these?"

Macilvain paused, genuinely taken aback by the extent of her naiveté. He stared at her with amazement. "Terra," he said, but now there was a kind of reverence in it. "I'm sorry."

The moon came out from behind the clouds, bathing the beach in pitiless pale light. Every flicker of repulsion, bewilderment and sadness was amplified tenfold. Sabin tried to speak, only to find himself unable to articulate his feelings. There was too much to say; he wanted to lash out and lecture and console all at once.

Eventually the moment passed, and what had been such a striking scene returned to an ordinary autumn evening. Terra gave a little sigh.

"I think you should leave," she said.

"Y-yes, right." Macilvain cast a nervous glance at the monk, who was still brooding. "If that's...really, I'm sorry. I never should have..." He finally seemed to realize no amount of speeches were going to help and crawled into his rowboat. For the first time his complicated facade vanished, leaving in its place a reckless young man flushed with shame.

_He's just a kid._ Sabin felt even more guilty about his initial reaction. _He wouldn't have hurt anybody. He wouldn't have been _able_ to hurt anybody. He doesn't even know what he's doing._

_This isn't right._

Terra must have been thinking along the same lines, because she ran out to the edge of the shore. She lifted her chin with newfound determination. "I don't think I'll be ready to see you for a while," she called, "but sometime in the future..."

Although he had just started paddling, Macilvain was startled enough to drop the oars. He fumbled for them, almost overtipping the boat in the process. "Wh-what?"

"Come back," she said warmly. "You said you didn't want it to turn out this way, and I don't either. So maybe this doesn't have to be the end."

Even after having been friends for five years, Sabin couldn't remember ever having admired her more. Grace, selflessness, compassion and forgiveness in the face of iniquity---the order in Figaro might as well canonize her. Hell, he'd lead them in it.

_It's my duty to forgive, too. _"Yeah, come back in a year or two," he agreed. "I think you should. And hey, who can eat Terra's tomato soup and _not_ come back?"

Macilvain gawked unsure whether to think of them as incredibly generous or completely insane. He'd stolen from one, threatened another, and both were grinning at him. "I...uh, if you say so," he mumbled, obviously more baffled by kindness than violence. In a few short strokes he was halfway to the sandbars.

Sabin watched the boat recede to a tiny dot on the horizon. He drew back, waiting to be flooded with relief, but nothing happened. All he felt was regret and exhaustion.

"Well," he said at last, "you did the right thing."

Beside him, Terra hugged her arms for warmth. "I can't deny someone a second chance."

"Nobody can." _I almost did. I might have, too, if I hadn't stopped to think. I was so passionate about getting justice that I forgot what that justice represented. _He made a note to do penance in the morning. _Thank you, Vargas, for reminding me why I fight._

"When we faced Kefka, we said we didn't care what state the world was in as long as we had it."

"Terra..."

"Sometimes I think I want the world to be different than it is, but then I remember those words. This is everything we fought so hard to have. I don't have any right to complain."

How could she have such a stern, self-effacing outlook? "Don't think of it that way. In the beginning we were fighting for change, because that was most important. The more dire things got, the less we had to hold on to. Now we have something again and it's natural that we want to make it better." Sabin was bashful about his own ineloquence, but he couldn't think of any other way to say it. "It's the same as it ever was. We've always wanted things to be better."

"I don't know." She turned away, staring back over the water.

He considered letting her stay there. After all, she was an adult; she didn't need to be coddled. But adult or not, it was well past midnight in near-freezing weather and she didn't have so much as a decent shirt. He'd be a lot more comfortable if she took time to be alone inside.

"Let's head home," he suggested. When she didn't respond, he gently draped his winter jacket over her shoulders. "If you really want to stay out, you should at least stay warm."

"N-no, you're right." They walked all the way back up the hill together without another word. Sabin couldn't help but wish there was something more he could do.

He remembered ambushing Edgar when he became too frustrated with work. "Cancel all your appointments!" Sabin would shout, upturning the mahogany desk and exulting in the parchment storm. "That's enough for today! It's beautiful outside. Go hike!"

Edgar's response would usually be incredulous, if not downright belligerent. "You know very well I'm in a compromising position! How on earth am I supposed to 'go hike' in the middle of a preeminent---" Sabin didn't care; he usually only listened to the beginning and ending of anything he said. Years later, it seemed Setzer had taken his place as official king-harasser, and it was nice to know there was somebody out there equally dedicated to driving Edgar to distraction.

But what about Terra? She might not be a powerful politician, but she needed people to help her, too. When they'd traveled together, she had always been the center of attention. Early on Setzer had noticed how awkward she felt with no memories of her own and he had taken it upon himself to share his past with her. The others had followed suit. Even though she couldn't recall any of her childhood, at least she had been able to recite Cyan's entire patrilineal history.

_Now that you have memories of your own, who listens to your hopes and dreams? Who's there to offer support? Who barges in on you and takes you out for a day to just relax?_

_It's not selfish to think about what you want every now and then. It's only normal. If you don't think of yourself, you lose your ability to relate to the rest of the world._

_I wish you'd tell me more about what it is you're feeling, especially at times like this..._

**ooo**_  
_

Terra stared up at the old sloped ceiling with its rotted rafters. She'd always found it strangely soothing. It was fascinating to look at something that had outlasted so much destruction. She often fell asleep counting all the tiny notches in the wood, but tonight, seven hundred and thirty-two notches later, she didn't even feel tired.

_What did I do wrong?_

_What should I have known?_

Her skin prickled as the numbness slowly went away. Sabin had been right, of course; it was stupid to stand around outside without a coat. Some thicker blankets would have helped, but the children needed them. _I should make some more before winter sets in._

_They're probably already cold. I can't provide for them...I can't even defend them..._

"Hey, Terra."

She rolled over, rubbing her eyes. Sabin stood in the doorway with a look she couldn't quite place. He seemed visibly restrained, as though there was something he was keeping from her.

"Is everybody okay?" she asked.

"They're fine. Still sleeping." He knelt down at the edge of the bed, and she instinctively scooted towards him. "Pretty lucky, huh? Most of the younger ones wake up when it's barely raining."

Terra nodded, watching him closely. She hadn't known what to think of his letter or his sudden departure. All she could think was that he didn't care enough to stay. In retrospect, she realized how wrong she had been. He'd gone out of his way to protect them without even being asked.

_'Friend' doesn't seem like enough for somebody who does so much._

It hadn't been a slip of the tongue or her exaggerating a small favor. It really was true.

"Sabin? How were you able to tell?"

He let out a deep breath. "It's not like I was sure from the beginning, if that's what you mean. I didn't want to say anything until I knew. A lot of it comes from being old, I guess. The more you travel, the more you learn about people. You can tell when somebody's trying to get a sense of how powerful you are, or if they really believe what they're saying.

"Besides, the international police force was dissolved a year ago. I remember everybody in Figaro being up in arms about it because there wasn't enough money to sustain the effort. He was either lying or hiding behind an old identity, but I wouldn't have trusted him anyway."

"You wouldn't have..." she murmured.

"No, I didn't mean it like that---"

"But it's important, isn't it? That night in Figaro, the noblemen told me Mobliz was unsafe. At the time I thought they were just trying to scare me, but...I don't know. If I'm putting the children in danger, I shouldn't..." Her voice rose with frustration and helplessness. "I just want to do what's best."

"You're raising kids the world forgot and making them into happy, healthy people. If you can think of something better than that I'd like to hear it." He sounded so resolute that Terra was taken aback. _How can he have so much faith after what I did? He shouldn't have to step in for my mistakes._

She reached for his hand, only to find she wasn't feeling quite as bold as she hoped and ended up timidly brushing his fingertips. "Will it be easier when I'm older?"

"What, having somebody betray your trust? No." It was hard to see his face in the shadows, but Terra thought she could make out a pensive frown. "You have to keep loving everybody anyway, though. It doesn't matter if it happens once or a hundred times. If you ever start thinking that it's easier to ignore people than help them, you get cynical. There's a balance to it all."

It was such simple, wise advice. The world would be a better place if there were more happy monks around to help people. "I know it's not good to believe too much, and it's not good to be too suspicious, but I feel like I'm never going to know what that balance is. I think it's easier to trust everyone."

"Yeah, and that's why..." Sabin trailed off, resting his hand over hers.

_Why what? Why you're here?_

_Because... _She tried to thank him, but the words wouldn't come. _Maybe I don't have to tell him. Maybe he understands._

"How long do you plan to stay?" she asked. "Now that you're back for good, I mean. Or are you?"

"Two or three weeks. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course. I'm glad."

Somehow there was nothing else in the world but the house and the moon and their hands, and Terra wondered if she'd already fallen asleep. Everything about Macilvain became a distant memory, hundreds of years in the past. She felt a strange, pulsing tension she couldn't articulate beyond _I'm glad...I'm glad..._

But the exhaustion pushing down on her eyelids was real enough. She settled back into the pillow with another sigh, shaken but content. She could rest; it was all over. More importantly, everyone else was safe and sound.

Sabin crossed to the other side of the room and hoisted himself up onto the windowsill. He leaned back, letting one leg hang out over the side and folding his arms.

"Sabin...?"

"Don't worry, okay?" He smiled---not one of his broad, ridiculous grins, but a strong sort of reassurance. "Just sleep. The longer you stay awake, the harder tomorrow will be."

Tomorrow? Tomorrow meant cooking, cleaning, and explaining Macilvain's sudden disappearance to children with no notion of theft or thievery. Terra blinked. Surely they were too young to be learning about such terrible things, and yet...

_Even if nothing bad ever happened, they can't stay children forever. There's a balance to it all._

"Thank you for coming home," Terra blurted, and immediately wished she hadn't. She quickly pulled the sheets up high and turned over, embarrassed. Now _that_ had been uncalled for. Why couldn't she have let things stand as they were, when everything was just starting to make sense?

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

_Not going anywhere... _She knew what he'd intended (or did she?), but it was still comforting to hear. It amazed her that three months of uncertainty had come to such an abrupt end in one night. After nearly giving up hope, assuming he was going to stay halfway around the world, here he was: propped up by the tiny bedside window to watch over them until dawn.

"Good," she said, closing her eyes and floating away.


	12. Chapter XII

**XII. In Which The Newly Recognized Status Quo Is, Upon Consideration, Preferable To All Alternatives**

**ooo**

The first rays of morning sunlight were hot on Sabin's forehead. He grimaced, swatting haphazardly at the air until he struck glass. It was several minutes before he remembered why he was sleeping on a windowsill. The recollection made him start, the closed space him fall, and as a result he dropped to the floor with an unceremonious _thud_. "Ouch! Uh, sorry." When he didn't hear so much as a sigh in response he felt a surge of panic. "Terra?!"

She was nowhere to be found. Her bed had been made and the nighttime camisole hung neatly on a rack. There were no signs of forced entry, a struggle, or any of the numerous horrible circumstances he'd imagined. _Everyone's fine. There's no danger anymore._

_How long has she been up?_

Sabin headed to the hallway for a quick inspection. Some of the younger children were already awake and gleefully tormenting their siblings, who seemed none too pleased about being pestered. The first floor bathroom was about to burst with flailing fists in too-short pajamas.

"Leave me alone or I'll tell Mama!" Claude threatened, brandishing a toothbrush.

Dmitri stubbornly clung to his brother's leg. "Tell Mama what? That you're a tattletale? C'mon, I just wanna see your insect collection! You promised I could!"

"You're just going to break it again and make a mess everywhere! Now get off me!" He gave a mighty shove that sent Dmitri tumbling backwards. The little boy banged his arm on the staircase banister, then burst into tears.

_Should've intervened_, Sabin thought with a twinge of guilt. "Come on," he said brightly, stepping into view. He tried to appear firm but amicable. "Claude, if you gave your word, you should keep it. Even if you didn't, you know it's not right to hit people."

"Mr. Sabin!" Dmitri forgot his injury and lunged headfirst into Sabin's arms, but Claude was caught between happy surprise and his own shame.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I, um..."

"What, I don't get a hug?" Soon he had an armful of energetic boys, and he decided to use the opportunity for a little gentle chiding. "Besides, you don't need to apologize to me, eh?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sorry, Dmitri. I didn't mean..."

The incident had been forgotten; Dmitri's attention span was even shorter than he was. "Mr. Sabin, how'd you make it all the way to Thamasa and back so fast?"

"Well..."

"Stupid, he didn't go all the way down there!" Claude snapped, then paused to consider the huge man he clung to. "Um, you didn't really, did you?"

Sabin just laughed and held them close, relishing their innocence. He couldn't think of anything in the world that was more important to protect.

Before they were even halfway to the kitchen they had been joined by the others, all of whom wanted to know about the incredible overnight trip. He tried to sidestep the questions as carefully as possible without being too transparent. "What's most important is what I remembered to get. I'll show you all tonight after dinner if it's okay with Mama."

"What's okay with me?"

Terra stood over the stove with a saucepan full of cornmeal. The grit caked in streaks across her face obscured her weary eyes. She seemed to stand a little too rigidly, as though overcompensating to stay awake. "Good morning! How are you all?"

There was a jumbled chorus of shouts as everyone clamored to be heard first. "Mama! Mama! Mr. Sabin's home!"

"Yes, I know. He came in very early this morning."

"Huh..." Katarin looked around in confusion. "Where's Private Macilvain? Is he not awake yet?"

A strong wind made the front door tremble on its hinges. This time Sabin was ready to take advantage of the distraction and step in. "You know, we ought to eat fast and do the barnyard chores before it snows. There's a big storm coming this way."

It sounded like a brusque change of subject, but the meaning was clear: _We'll talk about it then. _Some of the older children exchanged puzzled glances.

"I'll go!" Duane volunteered, who obviously wanted to know.

His young wife disagreed. "No, you're going to stay inside and take care of Lucy. She has stomach flu."

"Oh, no..."

"That sounds good. The rest of us will clean up in here, and we'll have lunch ready by eleven-thirty." Terra gave him a thankful smile that made the whole house seem a little less cold. "For now, we should eat and get dressed."

Although breakfast was just hot cornbread and bacon, it would have to do. Sabin wondered how many of the normal staples he'd be able to pick up in Thamasa. They could grow most of the food they needed on the farm, but it was hard to keep ample quantities of flour and sugar. Of his usual four trips per year, two of them were accompanied by a chocobo laden down with supplies. Would he have time to pick up some more before the year was out? He'd have to go sometime in between getting Relm and maybe checking on Edgar.

All the kids doing "barnyard chores" were old enough to put on their own outdoor clothes. The little ones stayed inside on cold days, only venturing out for eggs or exercise after their studies. It could be dangerous to go around the barn when winter set in; frozen water in the rafters would expand, break and make showers of splinters. _If I had time, I could try to replace all these planks..._

_If I had time..._

_How long will I have to stay here to do everything that needs to be done? _He remembered Strago scolding him for having left at all. _The children won't do any growing up in the meantime, so by all means, take as long as you want._

_After I bring Relm back, how long will I stay?_

_How long _should_ I stay?_

_I'm not going anywhere_, he'd said. Maybe it was more true than he'd thought. But as much as he wanted to consider just how important the village had become to him, he had a more pressing responsibility at hand: somehow he would have to fit an important life lesson into a six o'clock milking. Should he try to lead into it, explain to each of them individually, or something else? He finally chose to go with a direct approach.

"He what?!"

Several empty milk pails were dropped to the ground in surprise, and Sabin was glad he hadn't waited until the end of the morning to tell them. "Macilvain was a thief," he said, hating the taste of the word in his mouth. "Or, well, he would have been. He was after your mother's old weapons and armor. They're worth a lot of money."

"B-but!" Pamina sputtered. "But he was hurt! He was staying with us! And he always saying such nice things about us and Mama!"

"Thieves can't be open about what they want. If they were, they wouldn't be successful. They have to hide."

It may have been a true answer, but it was hardly a satisfactory one. Most older kids thought of themselves as too smart to be tricked, especially by adults.

"That can't be!"

"He seemed so nice!"

"I liked him!"

"How did you know?"

He wasn't going to tell them he'd spent two entire years distrusting everyone who didn't call himself an ally. Any honor in living a warrior's life was eclipsed by the personal harshness it engendered. Fighting bred aggression, coarseness, and cruelty, and it wasn't a way of life they needed to know. Not yet. "I was suspicious, that's all. When I came back to check he was on his way out with the armor."

"That's so cool!" exclaimed Simon, who was convinced that Mobliz was the only boring place in the entire world. "You mean we had a real criminal living under our roof and we didn't even know it?"

"He wasn't much of a criminal; he gave up pretty quickly. He came around to check out what he wanted but got in over his head. We confronted him about it, got everything back, and he left." Was that it? Did they need a more thorough account? Sabin sighed. "You deserve an honest explanation of what happened, so there it is. There's not really any more to tell."

He couldn't have known it, but his tired tone was more effective than anything he'd said. He made it clear that there was nothing enviable or glamorous about conflict.

"So what do we do now?"

"Yeah, what next?"

_I wish I knew. _"Well, the most we can do right now is try to make things easy on Mama. Do what she says, when she says, and don't complain. The last thing she needs is more stress." He sat down to start milking. All the others did likewise (albeit reluctantly) except for Hannes.

"Why did you let him go, sir?"

As the oldest besides Duane and Katarin, Hannes was something of an authority figure. He was a tall, stern-faced boy with closely cropped blonde hair, a Imperial soldier's son with an attitude to match. His father had died in the siege of Doma, and Sabin sometimes lay awake wondering if he'd been the one to kill him.

"Why did we let him go?" Sabin echoed. "What's the alternative? You think it would have been worth it to drag him halfway across the world to a county jail?"

"You know what I meant."

"That's not an option, Hannes."

"Why not? He would've gotten away with all of Mama's things! Why did you just let him go away? What's to say he's not going to do it again?"

"Nothing at all. Maybe he'll do it again tomorrow. The thing is, it's not our place to make those decisions." It was hard to sound too serious with his face pressed against cold cowhide. "Violence should be a last resort, not a reflex. Do you really think it would've helped?"

"It might've."

"And if it hadn't? Somebody would've been hurt for no reason. You need to have compassion first."

Hannes shook his head fervently; it was a matter of personal significance to him. "If you give everybody a chance, they'll just walk over you. Would you 'have compassion' if one of us had been hurt?" He saw the way Sabin cringed but kept going. "Are you going to say you've never wanted revenge on somebody? People have that feeling for a reason, right? Who's going to get justice if you don't? Or what if he'd hurt Mama?"

"I don't know," Sabin said bluntly. He figured it was better to tell the truth and sound unsure than to seem wise by deception. Besides, he'd never claimed to know much of anything anyway. "If you want an easy answer, I don't have it. Nobody does. I can't guarantee I would've reacted the same way in a different situation. When you make justice for yourself, you're saying that you know for a fact that what you're doing is the right thing to do. That's a pretty big responsibility, don't you think?"

"I..." The boy lowered his head, but he didn't seem convinced. If anything, he was more perturbed than before. "I _think_ I know what would be right. How can I be sure? How can anybody?"

"You can't. You just have to do what little you know is right and leave the rest to God."

For a moment Hannes simply stood there, staring.

"So...make things easy on Mama?" he said at last.

Sabin grinned. "Yeah, that's it."

**ooo**

"Is it like when Phillippe takes Mr. Bear and doesn't give him back?"

"I don't do that!"

"You do too!"

Terra sat on the couch, buried under six squirming, squealing little bodies. Three years ago she had tended to them as infants, the most vulnerable victims of the earthquakes. Now they could all help with chores and dress themselves, even if they occasionally forgot which foot was which.

As wonderful as it was to watch them grow, her joy was always accompanied by a shade of grief. Unlike the older children who called her 'Mama' out of affection and respect, they genuinely believed she was their mother. They didn't remember their loving parents or the selfless sacrifice they had made. Worse still, she couldn't ever tell them. When she'd first awakened in Mobliz, Duane and Katarin were burying the bodies that hadn't disappeared into the ground.

_I'm the only mother they've ever known, but..._

"No, it's not like that," she reassured. "Mr. Bear belongs to all of you. Stealing is when you take something that's only for one person and keep it for yourself."

Jay furrowed his brow, and Terra could see the little gears turning inside. "But...but you don't take things that aren't yours," he said, distressed.

"That's right. But some people want things so much that they're willing to take them away."

"Did he get away?" Laurent asked tearfully, clinging to her neck. "Did you lose it all? Mama, I don't want anybody to take our things!"

She cuddled him tightly. "No, no. Mr. Sabin was there to help get them back. Then Private Macilvain realized he was wrong, said he was very sorry and went home."

"You can say sorry when you steal?" questioned Phillippe, who was skeptical.

"Of course you can. It doesn't necessarily make things better, but you should do it anyway. You should always apologize when you're sorry."

"---but you should try not to do bad things in the first place."

"Right."

There were times when it was best to sit up straight and lecture, but she tried to reserve those moments for disciplinary situations, and at the moment all she wanted to do was treasure their safety. The thought of anything happening to them was too painful to consider.

"So you and Sabin saved the day, huh?" Duane said, stroking his daughter's hair. "I guess some people are just born to do great things."

"How is helping a man in need greater than being a father?"

"Easy for you to say. When you were my age you'd already saved the entire world. You've seen everything there is to see out there, so none of that impresses you."

"Duane..." She knew he didn't intend to sound insensitive. As much as he loved his family, he'd had to abandon all of his dreams of traveling when Lucy was born. Terra hadn't ever wanted anything more than someone to love, but somehow she'd stumbled into more adventures than could fit in a lifetime.

_It must seem uncaring when I say it's not a big deal. It's all he's ever wanted to do._

"I wish you would've come to get me," he went on. "What if something had happened and you needed me?"

Katarin, who had been passing by for a glass of milk, could only laugh scornfully in response. "Needed you? There's nothing in the world Terra and Sabin can't handle, and if there was, you think _you'd_ be able to help?"

"Bedtime, for one," Terra interjected, but it was too late. A battle had begun.

"The baby's making you cranky," he frowned.

"The _baby?_ What about you? Now that Lucy's older I need you more than ever, but you're always off trying to find yourself or whatever it is you're doing, as though we can just wait---" She abruptly stopped, checking herself before another explosion. "You...you're right, Duane. I am cranky. I'm sorry."

He rose. Lucy clung shyly to his leg, unsure of where to go. "You're right too. It's my fault for forgetting what matters most. Why don't you lie down again and we'll bring you some sandwiches?"

They shared an apprehensive smile, ending the tension between them. It was beautiful, Terra thought, that two people could be so close as to fight it out in one breath and come to a compromise in the next. Edgar and Sabin were closer than anyone she knew, but affection between lovers was different. Lovers shared a deeper, more intimate understanding.

_How do people fall in love? Do they look at each other and know? Is it like the children, when I didn't even know how much I loved them until I had to leave? Do you wake up one morning and discover it's happened to you?_

_I have a family of my own. I don't need any more love in the world_, she decided. Still, she couldn't help but be curious and a little wistful. _It must be lovely to have someone to lean on when the world feels like too much..._

She suddenly remembered the previous night and would've fallen off the couch if not for the squealing children in her arms.

"So now what, Mama?"

"Are we gonna clean all the rooms upstairs?"

"Isn't it time to start on lunch?"

Terra sat up, shifting everyone into her lap. "Yes, it is. Your big brothers and sisters are going to be very hungry after all that work, so we should make something nice and hot, hmm?"

"Yeah!"

There was a meager mess of green beans left over from the last week's gathering, and along with some fruit and grated potatoes there was probably just enough for a small lunch. The leftover vegetables from the stockpot were so bland as to be completely tasteless, but sautéing them in butter would work. As pathetic as it was, there wasn't anything else to eat.

"Mama!"

Marianna was first indoors. She had a habit of being first for anything where food was involved. Her siblings came soon afterwards, rosy-cheeked and trailing mud into the kitchen.

"Well, hello! How was the barn?"

"_Cold_,"Simon complained.

"Mr. Sabin is out doing penance, so we can go ahead and get started on lunch," continued Marianna, emptying her pail full of cheese into the little icebox for perishable food. "He also told us to tell you that he'd be back by dinnertime with firewood to last a week."

"Yeah, and that we're supposed to shear the sheep _and_ pick all the fruit in the southern fields! By sundown!"

"Be quiet, Claude! Don't you remember what he said?"

_Doing penance? _Terra knew he was deeply religious and never once missed morning prayers, but penance was separate, more serious: he'd done it every day for a month after Vargas died and at least once after each major battle. Why was he doing it now?

_Is it because of last night? Or what happened afterwards? Is it my fault? _"That's fine with me," she declared, a bit too loudly, "and I'm certainly thankful for all your hard work! It looks like all the animals were very cooperative today."

Hannes must have seen the slight hurt in her eyes and misinterpreted it, because he immediately went to her side. "Don't worry, Mama. We're going to help you in every way we can."

She couldn't help but appreciate his earnest expression. He had always dreamt of going out into the world and doing great things. There wasn't much of an opportunity for that on a tiny backwater farm, but he never once stopped trying, and Terra was proud to have him as her hero. "Thank you, Hannes. It means a lot to me."

"We have to do the best we can," he said dutifully.

"That's right." She glanced down at the kitchen table and saw something was amiss. "Vale! You put two knives at Marianna's place! How is she going to be able to eat with just knives?"

Vale went on with the other table settings as though nothing was amiss. "Hopefully she can't. Then maybe the rest of us can eat too."

"It's a growth spurt, you little jerk!" Marianna snapped.

"Yeah, 'cause you're growing _fat_!"

Although Vale had a way of sniping at everyone, sensitive and temperamental Marianna was his favorite target. The two fought more than any of the rest combined. More than once Terra had had to step into a frenzy of kicking and biting.

"Stop it, both of you! You both know better than to call each other names. Can't you try to be friendly?"

Even in the midst of their squabbling, they both seemed to agree that this was an absurd, if not impossible, request.

"I don't_ want_ to be his friend!"

"Yeah, and I don't want to be hers, either!" He paused. "She eats her friends!"

"Vale!" The other children were torn between exasperation and amusement, but Terra felt genuinely indignant. Why couldn't they get along for a single day? "Vale, go to your room. I'll bring you your lunch when the rest of us are finished. Marianna, you shouldn't respond to him that way."

"It's not fair," she sniffed, wiping her eyes as he trudged upstairs. "He makes fun of everybody even when we didn't do anything! He's just a brat!"

Terra shook her head. "I know it seems difficult, but I don't think he means to cause any harm. He's just...unhappy."

"_He's_ unhappy? So why does he have to make the rest of us unhappy too? He's mean!"

"Marianna..." She had no wise sayings or motherly advice to give. Instead she simply put both arms around her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard. Now why don't you sit down and tell us about this morning? I want to hear more about the barn."

It seemed to placate her. She took her seat, thankfully accepting a fork and spoon from Pamina. Terra tried to be an attentive listener, but even despite the stories about spilled buckets and snowball fights and Hannes's aspiration to "go around the world like Mr. Sabin" when he grew up, all she could hear was _He's just a brat...he's mean..._

_Is that my fault? Have I raised him this way? He was always surly._

_Why can't he get along with the others?_

_It's my responsibility to know and love and nurture them through everything they face, but Vale is so distant. If I can't understand him, that can only make it worse...or is it because of me that he's lashing out?_

As always, lunch came and went too fast. There was so much work to be done that actual family time seemed rare. She treasured the time she had with some of them when doing chores, but it required genuine strategy to get everyone together at once.

She sighed and scraped some leftover fruit, cheese and buttered bread onto a plate. Sometimes she wondered if Vale went out of his way to be punished so that he could spend time alone.

"Vale?" she offered gently.

There was a tiny cough from behind the door. "I'm hungry, Mama."

Vale shared a bedroom with Dmitri, Phillippe and Simon. The floor was usually littered with dirty clothes and wooden trains, but today there wasn't so much as a misplaced sock.

_Did he clean all this up himself?_

He sat in a chair facing the corner, his little feet dangling in the air. "I'll eat some carrots, too."

"We've got lots to eat. Here." She held out the plate and he snatched it up. Terra waited for him to finish gobbling down his lunch before asking any questions. For as much as he ate, Vale was too thin. It worried her when he coughed loudly or couldn't sleep at night. Had he always been sick? What if he was he getting worse?

Amidst her questions she nearly forgot about the task at hand. "Vale, why did you say that to Marianna? You know that wasn't nice."

"She's mean to me," he said between mouthfuls of strawberries. "She calls me names and shoves me around when nobody's looking."

"What do you think you should do about that?"

"Make her eat a bug."

The speed of his answer was somewhat unsettling. "When things like that happen, you should talk to her about how it makes you feel. Trying to get back only makes things worse."

"If she was eating bugs she wouldn't be able to call me names," he pointed out. Then, sensing that he was in for another reprimand, decided to take the flattery route. "I bet your brothers and sisters never picked on you when you were growing up. You're perfect."

_When you were growing up... _"I didn't have any brothers and sisters."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You didn't? How'd you learn to get along so good?"

Terra was almost certain the proper word was 'well', but it didn't seem like the appropriate moment for a grammar lesson. "Oh, well, I had to work very hard. None of us really had time to fight."

"Work hard? Harder than farming?"

"No, not harder," she said quickly, if only to shut out the sudden recollection of charred corpses and the heavy iron chains that bound her to the wall. No, that was lifetimes ago, or maybe it had never really happened at all; it was just a painful dream. What mattered was the here and now: her home, her family, Vale. "Nothing's harder than farming...and keeping you in line!" He gave her a wobbly smile, encouraging her to continue"And I know you know what you did was wrong. I want you to brush your teeth, go downstairs and apologize to Marianna before you start on the kitchen chores. If you mean what you say I'm sure she'll understand."

"Or she'll just call me a twerp," Vale pouted, looking forlorn. "You say everybody's so nice, but sometimes they're not. Don't you ever think people are bad just because?"

His question struck like a blow to the chest; Terra couldn't breathe. All the dread she felt about being an inadequate mother came back at her tenfold in a terrifying possibility that made her blood freeze.

"No, I don't," she stammered. "I think there are reasons for everything, and I think most people want to get along. Fighting doesn't solve your problems. It just teaches you to feel vindicated by someone else's anger. That's nowhere near as nice as getting along and being happy."

It was hard to tell if she'd gotten through to him or not. Vale had trouble admitting there were things in the world he didn't know.

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a shrug, but his voice held a tiny bit of recognition. "I mean, I was gonna apologize anyway."

**ooo**

Terra threw herself into the rest of the day's chores, if only to keep from breaking down completely. She couldn't tell if it was the recent stress, lack of sleep, her newest pang of failure, or some unholy combination thereof. All she knew for sure was that she was too edgy to clean the dishes.

She did her best to attend to her ordinary motherly responsibilities, but everything came out weak and apologetic. The children were so bewildered by her sad detachment that by dinnertime they had stopped quarreling altogether. Instead they watched from a distance with curious eyes and whispered amongst themselves. Even Duane and Katarin joined in the speculation.

"What happened to Mama?"

"Vale, did you make her cry?!"

"I didn't! She just got like that!"

"Maybe she's..." Susanna gave Katarin a significant look. "You know..."

"Susanna! Absolutely not! Really, of all the ridiculous things..."

Terra would have reassured them if she thought she had anything positive to say. As it was she simply felt hopeless. She cooked with a heavy heart, barely able to summon a smile in response to stories of victories and adventures. Sabin's gift, a big pink hat with a bright bow, elicited no more than a breathless "oh! oh, thank you...", inaudible over all the squealing.

_Why can't I be involved? What's wrong with me? _Then she remembered Vale's criticism and winced. The guilt she felt for being so ineffective was compounded with the guilt she felt for isolating them, which doubled back into making her feel worse. It was too much to bear.

_It's not that I don't care,_ she tried to say, struggling to rise above the crushing weight that dulled her senses. _I love you more than anything in the world. I just...it's my fault. I'm sorry._

_I can't..._

After everyone had been marched through the usual bedtime routine Terra took a seat by the meager fire. It was her way of doing penance; maybe not quite as arduous and strict as Sabin's, but meaningful nonetheless. She would have to come to terms with her emotions if she wanted to move forward. Any more moping would just upset the children more.

"Are you all right?"

She should have been annoyed, or at least indifferent, but she was secretly cheered by the interruption. The sound of his voice---concerned but not prying, with a touch of good-natured cluelessness---was more soothing than any amount of material comforts. "I don't know," she said, not moving. It wasn't until she smelled a hint of bittersweet chocolate that she turned around.

"Sabin! Is that the cake from the top shelf in the pantry?!"

Sabin paused mid-mouthful, obviously unsure of what to do with the telltale slice in his hand. "Uh, there's no right answer to this, is there?"

"Well..." She didn't want to dwell on it. Occasional kitchen mishaps were inevitable, but it struck her especially hard when ingredients were so scarce. "I made it for Ramir's birthday. I'm not sure what happened, but it fell in the oven and the texture wasn't right, and it probably needs more sugar. I was going to let the cows have it."

"So I'm not in trouble then?" He sat down next to her and offered her a piece, which she tacitly refused.

"Come on, don't! It's terrible."

"It's not terrible, it's delicious cake. I _must_ eat it."

His conviction was enough that Terra decided to let it go. She didn't understand how he could eat that disaster of a cake like it was a real treat, but it was just another one of the many things about him that eluded her. He was so serious-minded and yet so...ridiculous.

"So anyway, what's bothering you? Is it the hat? I know it's pretty over the top."

She watched him in the dim firelight. Even as he lay back, wiping his chin of stray cake crumbs, he seemed to fill up the whole room. Everything around him only served to emphasize his easygoing gravity. No matter what he did, she thought, there could be no undoing it. He was simply too _big_.

"It shouldn't be anything," she began. She knew he didn't really think it was the hat that bothered her; it was a gentle opener for her to answer as openly as she chose. "Vale asked me about my family. He said I was too optimistic about people, that sometimes they just weren't nice. And I...and I saw that I wasn't ever a child like he was, or like any of the children are, and that I can't relate to them because I never..." Terra wanted to stop, but her words were tumbling out faster than she could catch. "I can't try to help them through their problems when I didn't have them myself, and it's all so strange to me sometimes, and if I can't teach from experience I shouldn't teach at all, and everything with Private Macilvain made me think that I don't even know when they're in danger, and..." A flood of tears would have been a relief, but she was too tired to cry. Instead she hugged her knees and took several shuddering breaths.

Sabin propped himself up on his elbow. "You really think your past keeps you from being a good mother?"

It was a great credit to him that he didn't immediately reach out to hold her or dismiss her anxiety with a pithy saying. It was an honest conversation between two adults---two equals. When was the last time that had happened? When had she last spoken to someone on her level, as opposed to either dispensing advice or asking for it?

"I don't see how it couldn't. There's such a gap between their world and mine."

"Sure, but that doesn't make you unfit, necessarily. It's not like being a professor. You don't practice for years and take exams. Do you think Duane and Katarin shouldn't be parents either?"

"They had real childhoods, real families..."

"I bet they were just as unprepared. Besides, you can't limit yourself to what you know. You have to be willing to accept your circumstances and do new things." He turned away with a faint smile. "_You _taught me that, Terra."

"I...I don't remember saying something like that," she mumbled, her cheeks hot. Unsure of how to respond, she hurried to change the subject. "It is true, isn't it? Like how Setzer appointed himself the official apparel ambassador of southern Figaro?"

The memory made Sabin laugh out loud. Well, it served Parliament right for not reading legislation more carefully. "That could be an example."

"Why did he do that, anyway? Just to see if he could?" It seemed like he had a different motive than choosing to be a mother, but there was no accurately gauging anything Setzer did. Who knew? Maybe he felt a need to nurture and support, too.

"Boredom, I think." There was more to it than that, of course; Setzer had sacrificed much of his freedom so that Edgar could have an illusion of his own. There was no telling how they had developed such a rapport, or even why, but the two of them were close in a way only highly intelligent, ambiguously feminine men could be. "No, I guess he takes pride on keeping Edgar..._regaled_. If you can put it like that." Sabin always tried to be delicate with words when it came down to his brother's relationships, but he just fumbled everything around. "You know, Setzer once told me that he always tried to go to bed without any regrets. I think he'd tell you to do the same."

"But I do have regrets! I regret not being able to understand why they fight, or share in the sorts of milestones that they experience, or see things from their view. It shouldn't upset me so much, but---" She sneezed, sneezed again, then three more times. "Oh! Excuse me."

"I don't think you're at a disadvantage. If anything, you're even more capable. You're going through it all for the first time right alongside them. That's pretty special."

"That's not what they need. They need an authority."

"My father was an authority on everything in the world, but if I had fifty gil for every time he swore he had no idea what to do with Edgar and me, I'd be a millionaire. All kids are unpredictable in different ways. There's no use in expecting yourself to be on top of every situation."

"I suppose you're right." As much as she wanted to believe it, there was some block that stubbornly refused to let go of her fears.

"Is this..." In an extraordinary moment of caution, Sabin hesitated. "Is this because of Macilvain, or have you felt this way for all these years? I've never heard you talk like this."

"Well," she said, and the whole living room blurred in and out of sight, "Macilvain reminded me." Terra glanced towards the window. The panes were bulging inwards with the weight of heavy snow. All the delicate little flurries had turned into a raging blizzard, and somehow it made her dizzy.

"Of what? How does he reflect on you?"

"Of all my weaknesses. First it was though I couldn't defend them, then I felt like I couldn't speak to them. I..." Again the words died out from within, drowned in a dull, uncomprehending fog. _What's wrong with me?_

Sitting up suddenly required much more energy than she had. A timely intervention from Sabin kept her from pitching face-first into the fireplace.

"I'm sick," she announced, only now realizing it.

He kept a loose grip around her waist. The apprehension in his voice was replaced with wry amusement. "Thought so."

Fever made her bold and she leaned back against his chest. Perhaps the sickness gave her some leeway she wouldn't have otherwise had, or maybe she was just taking advantage of a situation (well, Setzer could at least be proud of _that_), but for once she didn't lose herself in questions. For the moment it was good enough to feel comfortable and safe.

"You need to take better care of yourself."

Terra gave a thorough outline of her polite disagreement with a noise like "mmrgh". Undaunted, Sabin went on.

"I know you don't think of yourself very much, but it's bad for both you and the kids. You tried so hard not to worry them by keeping it in that you just wound up worrying them more. The least you could do is wear a coat when you go outside in freezing weather."

"I shouldn't have, I know."

He gave her a tight squeeze as admonishment. "You care so much about everyone else that you forget how it is that you can care for them in the first place. You can't help if you're sick."

"I didn't mean to." Her whole face was hot again. It had nothing to do with any number of heartfelt compliments; she really did need a shower. Still, it seemed so unfair to have to _move..._

"---and if you'd just rest every once in a while---"

Terra barely heard him. In retrospect, today had been a hard day, not a failed one. She wasn't inadequate, she was _sick_. If she had the strength she would've laughed at her own melodramatic despair.

"Thank you, Sabin," she said contentedly. For the first time in months she had a very good idea of what the next day would look like, and it didn't trouble her at all.

"Uh? You're...you're welcome." If he didn't know what she was talking about, he was reluctant to ask. Maybe he didn't want to move either. Well, her shower could wait a little longer.

_Because I can't be perfect..._

_And I shouldn't be upset that I'm not._

_It doesn't mean that I love my family any less._

_Thank you for reminding me._


	13. Chapter XIII

**XIII. In Which There Is The Long-Awaited Mutual Acknowledgment Of Change**

**ooo**

As much as her body protested, Terra was awake and active well before sunrise. She had told herself there was no reason why she couldn't go about her day as usual as long as she took things a little more slowly. The cabinets had plenty of medicine, and with all the snow outside there would be no need to visit the barn. If anything, today would be something of a break.

She was just buttoning up an old calico dress when she smelled pork fat on the griddle. "What? But..." Who would have woken up before her? Was it Katarin? Lately she'd been having strange cravings at even stranger hours, but she'd never been an early riser either. Terra hurried out to the kitchen, bracing for the worst. "Katarin, if there's something you want, you can just---"

The countertops had been laden down with all the cooking staples. A steady stream of hot grease from the pan was accumulating in a spare skillet. Most unexpected of all was the sight of Duane behind the stove, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Ah, ah, ah!" He paused in the midst of flipping bacon to point his metal spatula straight at her. "You're not supposed to be awake!" he said accusingly, but there was a merriment in it. "Go back to bed! I promise I'll bring you something for lunch."  
"You're cooking?" Watching breakfast start without her was something like an out-of-body experience. Weirder still was the idea that Duane, who treated the stove with distrust and fear, was having such a good time.

He continued to waggle the spatula in her face. "If you don't go back to bed I'm gonna call in reinforcements!"

It was too early for her already-addled brain to make any sense of it. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Hey, what's...hey!" The sound of footsteps on the cellar staircase drew their attention. Sabin came up the steps with a heavy bag of oatmeal in each arm. "Terra! I thought you were going to rest today!"

"What do you mean, rest? I hadn't planned to overstrain myself, but..."

"But what?" He gently touched his palm to her forehead. "You're still pretty hot. You need to wait at least twenty-four hours until you're not contagious anymore. It's for the best, you know?"

She sighed. Whether or not it was for the best, she couldn't stand to think of simply lying around when there was so much to be done. "I can't even start on the winter quilts?" It sounded whinier than she'd intended.

"Not until you get some sleep."

Sabin's will was decidedly inflexible, and her leaden limbs weren't making it any easier to resist. "All right," she said at last. "But if anything goes wrong, please don't hesitate to come wake me up. Now Toron has two loose teeth, Dmitri needs to eat his wheat crackers, and Vale is allergic to seafood and dairy products and chocolate---"

"We'll be fine. The most you can do for us right now is take care of yourself." There was no condescension in his voice, just simple statement of fact. Terra could tell he really was most concerned about her getting better. She smiled as she turned and left the kitchen.

"Are pancakes made with cornmeal? I mean, corn is yellow."

"No, it's flour. And the eggs. Right? Wait, how many eggs?"

Terra took one last look just to reassure herself. The two men had apparently willfully forgotten the whole incident and cooked sausages in the meantime.

_You've got nothing to be upset about_, Setzer had said. _I mean, look at all this. _At the time she'd asked what he meant, but now she understood.

When she came back to bed the comforter was even softer and more inviting than she remembered. It did feel so marvelous to rest; right then her threadbare sheets felt just as good as the finest silk in Figaro. Yes, she needed this, and surely Sabin and Duane would be just fine.

_Give Mama some time. She'll be better soon._

**ooo**

"That was good."

Sabin maneuvered some more grease away from the burners. "Eh?"

"With Terra, I mean. I'm impressed. She can be real stubborn sometimes," remarked Duane, who was unsure whether or not the last of the blueberries would be a good addition.

"It doesn't have much to do with me. Fever really takes the edge off a person, that's all."

"I don't think she would've taken it half so well if I tried suggesting she take a day off. And she didn't even try the pout-thing she always does when she's frustrated with somebody, you know what I mean..."

He knew exactly what he meant. Years ago, at the old Returner base on Mount Koltz, Terra had told them of her difficulty with understanding faces. "How do people make their mouths go up at the ends?" she'd asked, puzzled. "And why? What does it mean?" Locke and Sabin had spent hours teaching her to recognize and replicate facial expressions. Whereas Sabin focused on more basic things like happiness and anger, Locke was eager to show her how to set her face in a way that would get her out of "any situation, no matter how bad". The tiny pout and its equally heart-stopping variations were all Locke's doing.

"Any other day she'd have given me trouble, too. I just got lucky this time around."

"I'll say."

Despite the monk's best efforts a bit of grease slipped onto the flame. There was a brief flailing of arms as hot oil splattered in every direction. Duane yelped when a few drops hit his chin. Sabin was quick to step in with the baking soda, and the crisis was over as quickly as it had begun.

"...baking soda, eh?" Duane winced. The spots on his chin had become red and tender. "How'd you know that?"

"I had a place of my own in the mountains for a long time. I learned not to blow myself up."

Suddenly it was as if time around them had stopped. The spatula in Duane's hand fell to the floor. He stared at Sabin with awe. "_You_ had your own place? Like by yourself?"

The extent of his surprise was almost insulting. What else had he envisioned? "Yeah. When I was sixteen I started building a cabin during my training. I spent about a decade there until I met up with my brother and the Returners."

"Wow...what was that like? Having your own house, I mean." He made a wistful sort of sound and turned back to the skillet, which was now sticky with pancake batter. "I don't mean to be offensive, but I can't wait to get out with Katarin and Lucy. As it is I feel like we're just burdening everybody else with our problems."

"It is hectic here, isn't it? Still, I don't think Terra's ever thought of you as a burden. She likes you all, and she likes having people close to her own age."

"I dunno, the two of you are more adults than we are. She talks to Katarin a lot, but she's never stayed up and told her about how worried she gets." He saw Sabin's bewilderment and said defensively, "I was just up to get a glass of water! I didn't listen."

A few words flashed through his mind, none of them appropriate. He'd forgotten that these kinds of unfortunate coincidences could happen without Edgar's assistance. "Y, yeah, well---"

"It's not like I didn't see it coming," Duane muttered.

Curious Phillippe came to the rescue. He toddled into the kitchen with Mr. Bear in tow. "Where's Mama?" he asked.

Sabin shifted the bucket of eggs to his other arm and hoisted him up. "Mama's sick today, so she'll be in bed."

"Sick?" The rest of the children came out from behind the doorway, each of them trying in their own way to make it look as though they hadn't been listening. Pamina glanced out the windows and gasped.

"It's snowing!"

The house shook with squeals and whoops of glee. Sabin couldn't help but be caught up in their joy, even if he wished they would be quieter for Terra's sake. When he finally mentioned it everyone wanted to know what great and terrible illness had been enough to fell Mama. Most of them remembered the way she had annihilated Phunbaba and had since thought of her as invincible.

"When did she get it?"

"Is she okay? Is it bad?"

"What kind of sick?"

He hoped this bit of honesty wouldn't cause fear in any fertile imaginations. As a child, hearing about his own father's sicknesses had given him nightmares. "I'm not sure. It could be the flu, or maybe a cold."

"Or _maybe_..." Susanna began. Katarin gave her a warning swat on the forehead.

As soon as the plates had been distributed (by a genuinely penitent Vale, who seemed to be blaming himself for Terra's condition) and the food served, it was time to discuss the day's schedule. It would be hard to do much of anything outdoors because of the blizzard, but he didn't know how a house full of kids would be conducive to someone who desperately needed to sleep.

Sabin looked around the disjointed bookshelf-table. Although he hadn't deigned to take the stool usually reserved for Terra, he was still in the head position. He was reminded of the fancy mahogany banquet table in Castle Figaro, where he had spent so many hours under the frowning gaze of his relatives. He had thought that there could be nothing more powerful than that seat.

More than two decades later, as he faced down sixteen young people in various stages of quarreling and minor food fights, he'd never felt so powerless in his life.

"Uh, so." _How does Terra do this?_ "As you can see, there was a lot of snow last night---"

"Make Jay stop kicking!" Ramir wailed.

"I'm not kicking, you are!"

Hannes banged his fist on the table. "Both of you stop it and listen to Mr. Sabin!"

Was it acceptable to let that go? Sabin inwardly winced and went on. "It's still snowing, and it might get worse before it gets better, but we should try to clear some paths. Even if everything fills back up again overnight, we'll at least have a start. It's a lot easier to shovel two feet of snow than four."

"And the littler ones?" Katarin prompted. Beside her, Lucy was nodding off into the wide-brimmed oatmeal bowl. "There's a lot to do around the house, but I'm sure you had some specifics in mind."

He took a bite of sausage to buy some time. "Well, I wasn't sure. Terra usually supervises them, right? I'd be glad to stay in here, although I think I could oversee the snow shoveling." Left implicit was his assumption that he'd be a lot more helpful doing hard physical work than polishing silver.

"I'd do it myself, but I need to rest too. And with Lucy's stomach flu..."

Right then Duane saw an opportunity to do a great deed, or at least something that would please his wife. "I'll do it," he said. "Stay inside, I mean, if it'll be a help to everybody else. I can take care of the women and the children."

This last remark was enough to incite the collective annoyance of everyone else. No less than four people tried to kick him in the shins at once.

"W-wait! That isn't what I meant!"

"Some family man _you_ are."

"Just for that I'm gonna make today miserable!"

"Like anybody listens to you anyway!"

Sabin excused himself, promised he'd be back to lead the troops, and left to check on Terra. He suspected she'd been woken up by all the noise. The notoriously creaky door made him cautious, so he satisfied himself with a quick look through the crack.

To his surprise she was sound asleep. She had stretched out over the bed, one hand supporting her cheek. Hell, she seemed...relaxed. At peace, even. Nobody would've known she had any preying fears or inadequacies behind her little v-shaped smile.

It was nothing like that first night in Figaro when she'd gracefully curled up with a pillow, or when she dozed in his arms after the ball, but the odd feeling it stirred in him was the same. _She's all right. This is...good._

"Hey, Mr. Sabin!" Simon called. "Are we going out now?"

**ooo**

Snow held a special kind of importance for Sabin. He had first seen it as a teenager training mission on Mount Koltz, and even that had been no more than a few flurries. Real snow, the giant white blankets that buried everything in sight, had been just an idea until he went up to Narshe. If not for the wars-and-fighting thing he would have spent his time exploring.

So when the kids got distracted while working he was very sympathetic. Most of them had several years' experience on him and were more than happy to teach him about perfect snowballs. Eventually they settled on fifteen minutes of frenzied play for every forty-five minutes of work.

In just four hours they had cleared all the paths they needed so they could focus on more important business: namely, building gargantuan snow forts and snowmen. The younger children came out too, accompanied by an exhausted Duane.

There was some dissent as to the ideal location for their efforts. Susanna, artistic and fanciful, wanted to build over the hill for the best perspective; Hannes was an advocate of the "flat meadow" proposal, but Lue had the best idea. "What about the east side of the house?" she said meekly. She seemed to be bracing for the others' ridicule, even though everyone adored her. "If Mama's awake, she'd be able to see. If she wasn't, she could look at it later."

The city of snow people started discreetly since Terra appeared to be sleeping. But as their work continued, so did their enthusiasm. It was amazing to see how energetic the children could be after hours of hard work. For them, snow really _was_ magical; it heightened their imaginations, provoked their creativity, and boosted their strength. In spite of his age Sabin had to admit he felt pretty light-hearted himself.

He glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the village, wondering at how many things had changed in five years. Most of the farmers' homes had fallen into the ground or disappeared completely. The rows of tulips by the fence had been replaced by rows of makeshift gravestones. With so much of Mobliz buried under the snow, it looked almost barren.

What would it look like five years later? There was so much that needed to be built. Duane and Katarin's home, maybe the schoolhouse Terra dreamed of, a real silo and storehouse, a bigger shed for the farm tools---it would be a far cry from the former Mobliz, but there was no point in trying to recreate what had come and gone. They could only follow the rest of the world and start from the bottom up. It was a big task, to be sure, but with residents this enthusiastic he had no doubts.

"Hey, everybody." Duane bent back a few of his frozen fingers just to make sure they still worked. "It's already noon. We'd better get started on lunch...we don't want to keep the ladies waiting, right?"

In lieu of response he was pelted with snowballs.

Sabin helped find a few missing mittens and herd the littlest ones inside. As he turned back to admire their work he noticed the east window was open. "Terra!" he said, genuinely surprised. "Are you feeling well enough to be up?"

She peeked out at him, her hair let down and a heavy purple afghan over her shoulders. "How couldn't I? I've got a winter fairyland right outside my room!"

"It's great, huh? Pamina and Susanna worked hard on those angels. Oh, and before you ask, we got all the real outside work done, I promise."

"I knew you would."

For the first time in years Sabin figured lunch could wait and he went over to stand beside the window. Even from inside the house she was scarcely taller than him, a small point he found both funny and somewhat charming.

"So how are they?" she asked, leaning down on the sill.

"Wild. You know, I've been here for at least part of each winter and they react this way every time. It's like they never saw it before."

"But that's what snow does, isn't it? Make everything seem new again?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking about that. I wish I felt it as strongly as they do."

"Me too. I never would've thought to build a snow dog eating a snow cat."

"Three guesses as to who did that one."

"Don't tell me..."

He let the conversation trail off into thoughtful silence; he was more interested in the snow as it fell. The fat, relentless flakes turned everything as far as the eye could see into a glimmering blur, beautiful and blank and still. The perfect silence made him feel almost painfully alone.

In his usual absentminded, one-second-late sort of way, it occured to him that he wasn't alone. Beside him, Terra was watching the blizzard with similar quiet admiration.

_I'm wearing three layers of clothing, and I'm cold... _"It's probably not a good idea to stand here with the window open," he murmured, fiddling with the straps of his trapper hat.

"You know..." Her voice took on the shy, wandering timidity that colored all her more serious thoughts. "I don't want to keep at it because I'm selfless or noble or something like that. It's really the opposite."

Such a harsh assessment of character struck him dumb."Eh?"

"It's because I'm greedy. I want to experience everything as much as possible. I can't stand to think that I'm missing out on anything in the world. I have to do it all, all the time.

"I had eighteen years taken away from me, and I don't want to lose any more. If I can't be there it feels like I'm missing out on some important memory. So I clutch at every second of every day even when it's not good for me. All I want is a life of my own, and I'm so desperate for it."

"Terra, it's not greedy to really love life."

"You don't think so?"

"I know so."

She considered it. "I'm sure I'll come around eventually, but I have to accept it for myself first. In the meantime, you can be sure for me. That's enough for now."

It could have been the little pile of snow on top of her head, or the melted drops that stuck to her lashes, or the way she was so striking in a storm of white, or her confidence in him, or how it was all so dreamlike anyway; Sabin didn't know and didn't care. All he knew for sure was that it seemed like a really good idea to lean forward and kiss her, so he did.

Somehow his knees went out from under him and he jerked back. She stared at him with disbelief. They stood in place for what felt like ages, flustered and breathless.

"B-but, Sabin," Terra stammered, visibly shaking from under her blanket, "I'm...I'm still contagious!"

Her innocent panic came as a relief. It was definitely the best possible thing anyone could've said, and maybe the best thing anyone had ever said. He just grinned. "I won't tell," he promised, and leaned forward again.

Uninvited memories of Edgar's agitation popped into his head. "You just don't think!" he'd ranted, infuriated by his brother's inability to grasp the blindingly obvious. "Don't tell me you're stupid. You just don't think!"

_What is there to think about?_

_This makes sense to me..._

He finally pulled away, although he might never have moved at all if he hadn't been so hungry. Now, if all of Edgar and Setzer's stories were to be believed, was the hard part: coming up with something suave and sophisticated to say.

"So, uh, do you want soup for lunch?"

It was Terra's turn to grin this time. "Yes, I think that'd be good. I, ah, had you planned to do any more work outside?"

"I'd planned to help the kids do chores around the house. Then again, it might be good to shovel around the house and barn. The south walls are kinda weak and it can't help to have all that weight pushing in from the side. I'll clear that out."

"All right."

There was a brief, awkward pause, but this time it was due to confusion as opposed to discomfort. "Um, I'll get started once everybody's off to a good start on the housework. Take it easy, okay?"

"Yes, of course. Good night," she said kindly and shut the window.

**ooo**

Even though she made all the motions of returning to bed, Terra watched from her window as he raced back inside for lunch. She hoped he didn't notice that she'd bade him good night in the middle of the afternoon. 'Good night' just sounded appropriate for some reason. Didn't those kinds of things always happen at night?

_Those kinds of things._ Since when had she been a part of them? She'd finally accepted that there was no room for that in her life, even if she had wanted it, and now---

Terra took up one of the half-finished quilts, picked up her sewing kit and went back to bed. She sewed for a long time, almost mechanically. To her surprise she felt no surge of pent-up emotion or girly giddiness. It was all very natural, as though it had been part of the day's schedule.

_Still, I didn't think it would be so..._It had been like falling out of herself. Had he felt the same way? And the stupid thing she'd said about being sick; how had he been able to take her seriously after that? Edgar would have died before he romanced a woman with a question about soup.

_Poor Edgar. He's going to be devastated about not knowing immediately..._

_Or does he? _She remembered how Sabin and Edgar had been so keenly in tune with each other's feelings. Maybe Edgar had sensed it, like the way she had felt the presence of espers. It sounded silly, but she believed their connection was at least as strong as any magic. They had to know when something important happened to the other.

_Kings aren't as powerful as everybody says they are. They can't even be with the people they love._

_Edgar..._

_Rest easy. Everything's going to be fine. _Terra allowed herself the smallest of smiles, imagining the letter Sabin would send to his brother. He'd put down every detail about every day, filled with stories and helpful doodles in the margins, and maybe a cheeky comment or two. Edgar valued Sabin's health and happiness more than wine, women, or any number of things he professed to love best. She knew better.

Nice...no, more than nice. It was _wonderful_ how she'd become so close to Sabin, and in the process had become closer to Edgar than she ever imagined. She should've known it was a package deal. There was no way to be part of one's life without being part of the other's, and she thought it was lovely. It was the intimacy of siblings she'd never felt herself.

_I want you to be happy, too. You deserve it more than any of us._

Good things would have to happen to him, she decided. That was an order to the universe. If she had any power left, she'd spent it all on making sure he was well taken care of. Terra screwed her eyes shut and prayed for a hundred rowdy, titillating and tongue-clucking adventures all over Castle Figaro.

_He did everything he could for our sake._

_Thank you._

She looked down and realized the last few blocks of the quilt had been stuffed and attached. Thinking of Edgar or any of her old friends made for an aloof sort of distraction, but it wasn't like the restlessness she felt when Sabin was involved. She could still quilt and think of Edgar; Sabin made her put down her needle and thread.

Terra put the sewing aside, checked for dropped needles, and leaned back against the pillow. Maybe she hadn't been able to feel anything serious at first because she couldn't comprehend just how much it meant.

"He thinks," she said aloud, as if articulating it would make it less shocking, "he thinks I'm..." Did an expression for it exist? She didn't know how to put shaking hands and nervous sighs into words.

_Was that why he kissed me? Because there aren't words for it? _Come to think of it, was that why anybody kissed at all? Of all the couples Terra knew, or the people she secretly suspected were together, or even just the people she really wished would be together, she couldn't think of anyone who resembled her situation. Everyone was affectionate in their own way, she supposed, and nobody's relationship was quite the same.

_So what next?_

_He'll probably go out and travel like he always does. I can't keep him here. _There was no getting around that. But sometimes, when he gathered as many of the children as he could onto his lap and told them ridiculous stories of his life as a prince, she wondered if he wanted to stay for a little longer.

Every day he was there made the ones without him seem increasingly empty in comparison. Like all of her old friends, Sabin was regarded with a special authority, but he was the only one who could really reach out to all of her family as they were. He wasn't overly formal, lax, or distant. He understood everyone's individual perspective and treated them accordingly.

"He thinks..."

She shivered. By the time she had closed the window, she hadn't felt cold at all. Several minutes had passed before the curious warmth in her chest had been replaced with the painful reminder of frostbitten fingers. The snow couldn't have been good for her health and she knew it, but it was just too pretty to resist. _And he can't lecture me about it, either_, she thought triumphantly. They were both to blame.

_Are we both to blame for all this in the first place? I didn't start it; it was all the lumber he bought. I didn't..._

"Oh, stop it," she reprimanded, muffling herself with a pillow. Maybe she hadn't "started" it (then who would have? If she wanted to get technical, she might as well have gone all the way back to their first meeting, when what really started it was her calling him a bear), but she certainly hadn't protested, either. Even if she'd never experienced it before, it felt strangely appropriate. It was completely natural, like her hair growing out or the sun rising in the mornings: just another aspect of life to learn about and explore.

Only now---and this was the most exciting part---she wouldn't have to learn about this alone.

The dull fever fatigue struck again. Terra closed her eyes, still smiling slightly, and fell asleep.

She was suddenly on a boat and looking up at the stars, all of which formed perfect letters. How had she never noticed it before? There were lots of phrases she couldn't read, but all the words were familiar. It was like a great celestial puzzle coming together bit by bit as she worked it out.

"I know that one," she announced, having deciphered a few choice words.

Beside her stood an older man, tall and dark and long dead. He lifted one of his battle-callused hands and patted her shoulder approvingly.


	14. Chapter XIV

**XIV. In Which A New Story Is Told**

**ooo**

The next morning Terra took to the stove with a vengeance. The effectiveness of elixirs had disappeared with magic, but twenty hours of sleep had been almost as good. By six o'clock she'd already cooked all the breakfast and moved it to the oven to warm.

Newfound health made her restless. She went back to her room, put on her winter clothes and hurried outside to what was left of the relic shop.

When she closed her eyes and focused, Terra could see the relic shop as it had been before the earthquakes. The owner had been a jolly but unaware gray-bearded old man who always tried to make polite conversation, even when they were in a hurry. More than once they had had to free themselves from his well-intended chatter with desperate measures, such as Locke shouting "look! a fire!". Now the only remnants from those days were the record player and the enormous bed in the back room. Everything else was gray, faded and falling apart.

_Then again_, she thought, _the bed might be in better shape if Sabin wasn't sleeping there. _Even though he used it infrequently, the frame had permanently bent towards the ground. _Maybe if there's some lumber left over, we could fix it up._

_If he would stay..._

"Good morning!" she said cheerily, addressing the bed and its mountainous occupant. "Are you going to join us for breakfast?"

He rolled over and the mattress groaned beneath him. "Uh, no, actually. I thought I would stay here, if that's okay."

"All right, but why?"

"I, uh..." He shifted forward slightly. "Just a little sick, that's all. Oughta rest a while. Nothing major." Then, in a low mumble, "It's not a high fever, but..."

"Oh, really?" Terra had to fight to keep her lips from twitching. "Well, come to the house if there's anything you need. The snow has let up for now, so we're going to do some more shoveling. I might bring in one of the pigs later."

"Yeah. I'm, uh, I'm sorry I can't help out today. I mean, it's my fault anyway, and I shouldn't have..."

She paid careful attention to his posture and embarrassed babbling. It wasn't like him to be so self-conscious. _Does he regret it? _"Maybe we should agree we're both to blame," she suggested, and this time she didn't hide a smile.

Sabin glanced up, startled. "Well, okay," he laughed. "Sounds good to me."

"Mama!" Laurent's piercing shriek could be heard across the village. "Maaaaamaaaaa! Where'd you go, Mama?"

"Oh dear, that's my cue. Get well soon!" She gave a short wave and darted outside, shutting the door behind her. She felt a small amount of regret for having to leave suddenly, but the children's tummies came first.

"Terra!" Duane clearly didn't approve of her running back in forth in the snow. He watched with some annoyance as Terra came in and put her fuzzy white earmuffs on the hat rack. "Don't you think you should take it easy for a day or two more? And where were you?"

"I was visiting Mr. Sabin. I think he's taken most of my cold because he's very sick."

"That's awful!" Marianna exclaimed. Susanna looked disappointed.

Breakfast was the ordinary raucous affair of shouts and spatting. Terra was grateful for the opportunity to listen, mediate and encourage even as she fell into the firing line of Vale's oatmeal artillery. Time away really did work wonders for perspective. Best of all was her security in the knowledge that a bit of time out would be more than compensated by the many years to come.

Several days passed before the cold had been stamped out of the household. Old Dunlop the pig provided enough meat to last weeks (Dmitri had had difficulty eating, as he'd loved to ride him around the barnyard), which provided a temporary relief for their dwindling stockpiles. So much snow so early in the season was a bad omen for the coming months.

Stretching small amounts of food was a creative exercise, but Terra had several tricks to make things last. She hoped nobody complained about the reboiled soup stock or her own scanty servings. It was easy to go without when the younger children complained about being hungry at night.

Day-to-day affairs plus the added work for the winter left nearly no personal time. As usual, her opportunities to relax were a few minutes spent leaning against a wall between chores. The only difference was that sometimes the wall would tousle her hair and tell her lame jokes.

She took comfort in how little things had changed. There were no serious discussions, debates or clumsy talks. It was enough to recognize what was there and take comfort in it, despite 'it' not having been clearly defined just yet.

"What's coming up in the next few weeks?" Sabin asked during one of these impromptu breaks, keeping watch on Jay and Ramir. Terra sat at the table and massaged her temples.

"I don't know. A lot depends on..." _If we get more food. If the weather changes. If no one else gets sick. If Katarin has her baby on time. _"Why do you ask?"

"Well..." He stretched out the word in a distinctly worrisome way. "I should be leaving soon. I mean, I haven't set a definite date yet, but it's been two weeks already, and..."

"Oh." Of course he would be leaving. Why wouldn't he? She ought to be more surprised that he'd stayed so long. Still, the thought pricked at her unduly. All she could manage was another acknowledging "Oh."

"But don't---"

Ramir cried out in pain, and Terra instinctively rushed to the scene. She put an arm around each child.

"He shot it at me!"

"It was an accident!"

"Now, now," she said, rubbing the red spot on Ramir's button nose. "Tell me what happened. I'm sure nobody meant to hurt anybody else, but let's listen to each other before we make any accusations." And so, absorbed in the positions of judge, jury and nursemaid, Terra had no time to question the extent of the role Sabin was going to play in her future.

**ooo**

Sabin was quiet as he worked, preoccupied with making notes of all the things around the house and barn that were lacking. He kept a mental inventory of everything to go on the biannual shopping list, from sugar and salt to linens and shoes. When he'd first started living on his own, it had amazed him how many things were necessary for just him and the house. Seventeen people and thirty animals were something else entirely.

He had just finished feeding the animals (_at least four more feed bags_) and had moved on to clearing out the yard. After three days the blizzard abated, but a steady stream of lighter snowstorms had followed. He'd had to chop more and more firewood every week. Although it was the kind of simple, honest work that he liked best, it also filled him with respect for what Terra was able to do. How could she manage everything by herself when he could barely keep up his end?

It had been a little more than four months since she'd come to Castle Figaro for a vacation. He couldn't say that he was shocked at where he was now; he would've come back to Mobliz no matter what had happened, but today he saw his responsibilities in a whole new light.

"_You know the callings of God are as varied as His creations."_

_...is this mine?_

Well, one thing was certain: he'd never worked half as hard in his life. As if the physical aspect wasn't enough, the mental and spiritual discipline required was astonishing. Why hadn't anybody ever told him being a parent was so hard? People who raised kids ought to get medals. And for those who raised other people's children, who gave everything they had to providing for them...

There weren't rewards enough for her, not on this earth. There weren't accolades enough to praise her. He wondered if she'd been born with that superhuman potential to nurture everyone in need. Nobody could meet her and walk away unchanged.

Shoveling went a little faster when he thought of her at the window, and more so at the thought of how yesterday she'd cornered him while he scrubbed dishes. It seemed strange that the most completely exhausting work he'd ever done was also the most fun. The payback that came from watching children grow was better than any material gift.

Sabin looked up into the sky. Facing the snow as it fell gave him a weird, vertigo-esque dizziness. Without the blazing desert sun he felt distant from God, but he appreciated the sense of humility.

"If this is what You want," he began, spreading his arms. His words seemed to be muted by the snow, so he took a deep breath and spoke louder.

"If this is what You want, I'll do it. This is a lot more fulfilling than anything I've done before.

"If You'd make this my calling, I'll accept it.

"It would be a blessing..."

He trailed off, having nothing else to say. When he turned to the house he saw two oil lamps had been lit in the windows, the family signal for dinnertime. He gladly hoisted the shovel over his shoulder and headed back inside. Ahead of him Hannes, Lue and Marianna were talking animatedly.

"What was he whining about?"

"You know how picky he is about people touching his stuff..."

"He's never been very interested in us, at least not the way we are. He sees things differently, I think. He's not entirely on our level."

"Haha, that's true, isn't it? You would know."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing..."

They went into the house, laughing amongst themselves, and Sabin caught the door behind them. Even though he knew better than to stand there and let a draft in, again he had to stop and absorb the scene.

The hearth had been lit and all the cast-iron pots were bubbling. Duane was putting food on a plate for Katarin, who rarely left the bedroom as of late. Simon sat in a corner with some of the younger children, reading aloud from a book of fairy tales and occasionally interjecting cynical commentary about the realism of a given story. A hard day's work had worn out everyone too much to cause trouble. The subdued, content atmosphere was better than any royal welcome.

"Oh! Hi, Sabin!" Terra gestured for him to take a seat. "We're just about ready to eat. I know we don't have a lot, but I think it's all right. How was your work?"

"Pretty good. It's a lot easier to shovel now that the snow is drier. Hey, dinner is..." His plate had been stacked with two slices of ham, mashed potatoes and boiled asparagus. A few sliced pears with cinnamon on top were piled on the side.

_We don't have a lot? _He looked around at the family, the fire, and the home-cooked food. It was the kind of simple storybook peacefulness he'd always longed for as a child. Sure, sometimes things got hellish, but even at its worst the conflict in Mobliz was always genuine. There was no political artifice or double-meaning. _Not a lot?_

_This is everything Edgar's ever wanted._

Something about the cracked plate and its unassuming food put a lump in his throat. He'd finally admitted that this was a future he would gladly accept, but seeing it at work around him was overwhelming. After so many years of aimless wandering, never fully dedicated to anything beyond doing the best he could, here was what might well be the beginning of the rest of his life, and...

No. He couldn't have it, not yet. He had one last thing to do.

Sabin walked over to where Terra was carving the last of the ham. He was only dimly aware of moving, or anything else in the room. "Terra?" he said, having just enough presence of mind to notice how odd he sounded.

"Yes?" She heard the unfamiliar tone of voice and put down the carving knife. "What is it?"

"Can I...can I talk to you tonight? Later tonight, I mean." If he had been paying more attention, Sabin would've noticed Susanna, Pamina and Marianna immediately shushing the others, but at the moment he failed to see anyone who wasn't Terra.

"Of course, but..."

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't honestly promise there was nothing to worry about. Instead he said "All right, thanks", gave her a light pat on the shoulder, and sat down at the table. The trio of girls exchanged scandalized looks.

He'd expected his aloofness would go unquestioned, being lost in the typical back-and-forth battles of conversation, but they had scarcely said grace when Dmitri asked "Mr. Sabin, are you sad?"

"What? No, no way." With some effort he snapped out of it and gave the boy a wan smile that wouldn't have convinced a baby, and definitely not an incredibly astute five-year-old. "Just tired, you know? And a lot on my mind. Sometimes when I think too much I space out."

"Hey, me too! So what'cha thinkin' about?"

"Just things I'll have to do in the coming week. I should be leaving soon, so..." The disappointed chorus of "aww"s warmed his heart. "C'mon, it's not for long. Anyway, I have errands to run. I'll be back once I've got everything."

"Will you buy me a chocolate bar?" Marianna said eagerly.

"Marianna!" Terra exclaimed.

The children rarely contradicted her, but the prospect of candy was one thing everyone could agree on. Several people raised individual petitions for treats.

"But Mama, we haven't had chocolate bars since before the earthquakes."

"Yeah, all we've had is the baker's kind."

"And that's so grainy, too..."

"My birthday cake was supposed to be chocolate, but it didn't work!"

"Daddy used to buy me chocolate bars from Narshe."

Terra had a hard time resisting when the little ones joined in. "It's not the chocolate itself that I mind," she corrected, "but the way it was asked. Marianna, you know to say 'please' when asking for a favor."

The firm words had their intended effect. "Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Sabin, I didn't mean to sound pushy..."

"No, don't worry about it." He laughed to let her know all was forgiven. "I tell you what. I'll buy some chocolate for all of you and some good baking chocolate for Mama. That way you can have the sweet kind for yourselves _and_ cookies."

He cautiously raised his eyebrows at Terra as thought to say _Am I overstepping your authority?_ and she shook her head. Years of fighting together had made them quite good at communicating silently, although nowadays it was less of "I'll heal while you take over" and more "make sure the boys don't set anything on fire". It was still a useful skill to have.

His mind began to drift again, inching towards the constant whisper of _what next, _but he refused to let any amount of speculation ruin ham and mashed potatoes. The tough questions could wait until after the meal. For now all he wanted was enjoy a good family dinner.

**ooo**

Bedtime wasn't a point, but a process; from six to ten o'clock the kids would slowly file off to their respective rooms. Sabin waited until every last door had been shut before he went to find Terra.

He finally found her in the living room with her quilting. It was uncharacteristic of her to retreat to the darkest, coldest corner of the house to work.

"Are you okay?" he asked lamely.

"I don't know," she said in a petulant tone, clearly annoyed by such an inquiry. "I thought I was. What is it that's so serious that the children couldn't know? They heard you, and I think they're a little frightened."

A flat-out nasty retort would've been preferable to meek scolding. He felt like slime. "I know. It's my fault for not paying more attention, and I'm sorry for that. The fact that I was so worried shouldn't be an excuse."

"What is it that's---" She broke off mid-sentence, checking her fear with the sudden recollection of another problem. "Not inside."

"Eh?"

Terra raised her index finger to her lips. "In case anyone just so happens to be at the stairs, yes?"

They bundled up in their heavy snow gear and headed out towards the pastures. As they walked Sabin grit his teeth and tried to think of what he planned to say. It seemed sort of abrupt to just lay it out as it was, but he had never been any good at preambles, and she deserved to hear the whole truth exactly as he'd experienced it, but...

"Tell me, please," she blurted. Terra hugged both arms to her chest; he didn't know whether she did it for warmth or security. Few things wounded her like being left out, especially when it was intentional. She equated isolation with not belonging, an impression held over from her earliest days with the Returners.

_I can't lie to her. And I've already stalled long enough. There's no better way to put it than the way it is, even if it's hard...and it's not just about her, it's..._

_She has to know._

And so it all came out, prefaced clumsily with his trip to Thamasa with Relm, and how Strago had asked such pointed questions about life in Mobliz, and then the old man's request for her future, and how he'd expected both of them to be a part of it, and the idea of what would happen to Relm without the grandfather she adored, and it was just too much---

Terra occasionally stopped him between anguished, disorganized clauses. The story unfolded in jerky two-step motions as he spoke and she asked for explanation. By the time he finished they were both breathless with shock.

"So Strago is..."

"I don't know, it could've already happened. I meant to tell you as soon as I came back, but Macilvain...and I didn't know when..." Bitter though it was, Sabin was tremendously relieved to finally say it all. It had been too much to carry alone. "He wants her to live here. He says there's no better place in the world for her to be, and I have to admit I agree with him. But that doesn't make it any easier for you and the family."

"Sometimes I forget how young she is. She saved our lives a few times, and she was there with us at the very end. She's always been so grown-up in spite of herself." Terra was taking the information in a bit at a time in her usual roundabout way, thinking about the bits and pieces before she tackled the whole. "I wonder if she thinks children her own age are immature? Strago once told me she didn't have any friends in Thamasa because the other children thought she was strange. What if she doesn't get along with the others? What if she doesn't want to? I don't know what she's going to be feeling when Strago is gone..."

"There's no denying it's gonna be hard. Relm said she didn't love anyone in the world but her grandfather." _Damn! _It was probably the least helpful thing he could've said under the circumstances and he mentally kicked himself for it. "But she really does care about you. She also loves Strago enough to respect what he wants."

"I never would have imagined that he wants this," she said weakly.

"Why not? No amount of money or privilege could make a better environment for children than here. Trust me, I would know. I grew up with everything in the world and it was miserable."

She stared at him, surprised by his passionate endorsement. "Sabin..."

"You won't have to do it by yourself, either. Strago said he wanted me to help, and I want to. Not just because he told me, or that I feel obligated, but it's what I'm here to do." He wasn't sure if he was even making sense anymore, but he plunged ahead anyway. _She deserves to know what I feel_. "I have to protect what's important to me, and the most important thing to me is..." No correct grammar was enough to express the depths of his conviction. "This. This place, this family, everything it means---we fought for the sake of the next generation, but you're actually _raising_ it, and that you have enough love and compassion to heal the kids after they've lost so much.

"You have the power to make people happy and hopeful again. That's why Strago wants Relm to be with you. It's not enough that we saved so many lives; we have to rebuild them, too. And I want to be a part of that...here with you, with Relm, with everybody. It's not just our future that matters, but theirs."

"I..." Terra's eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away. It was some time until she was composed enough to speak. "I suppose Strago wouldn't want me to cry, would he?"

He hadn't expected that response, but it figured. Every time he thought he was closer to understanding her she did something unpredictable. "No, he wouldn't. I think he'd hit you over the head with his cane."

"You're right. I'll try not to. And...you wouldn't like it either, right? You'd say I'd get..." She sniffled a bit. "You'd say I'd get dehydrated..."

The falling snow was a cold and fragile barrier between them, burying everything else that should have been said. At last Sabin decided it was good enough to do what felt right and leaned down to rest his chin on the top of her head.

"When will you leave?" she asked softly.

"I'd been thinking the morning after next. Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course it is. You could've left sooner; I wouldn't have minded."

"I needed to make some decisions before I left."

The full meaning of _decisions_ hung heavy in the air, and she hesitated before responding. "So when you come back with Relm, how long do you want to stay?"

Her choice of words made it hard to answer honestly, so he decided to address it as though she'd asked how long he _ought_ to stay. "I'll be there for as long as I can help everybody adjust," he said. Is that all right?"

"That might be a long time."

"Do you mind?"

"No. I think the children really like having you here. It isn't that you're a guest, or that they can get away with more when you're around. You help and teach them things I can't. They benefit so much from your experience."

"Yeah, well..." He wished she'd say something about what his being there meant to her. "In the end, it's all for their sake. But that doesn't mean that what happens now is insignificant."

Vague as it was, Terra apparently knew what was implied. "Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing myself from them. I've spent so long trying to see things from their perspective that I can't necessarily find my own, and I can be mistaken by thinking that I want something that's really just for them."

_What is she...? _"Are you saying that I'm---"

"...but you give me that sense of self again. You remind me of where I stand with everything else. I always thought I could only know myself by what I did for other people.

"You always give a hundred percent of yourself to any cause. When I first met you and Edgar I thought both of you were the biggest people ever made. Then when Locke told me the story about the coin, I had this picture in my mind of you holding the whole world on your shoulders so that he could rule. I wanted to do something like that, to make a difference in a way everyone could see. And you never seemed unhappy or scared of what we were up against. Do you remember what you said just before we went into the tower, that day I was running around and talking to everybody on the ship?"

"Uh..." Come to think of it, he did, if only because of the somber talk he'd had with Edgar beforehand. "But it wasn't a lot, was it? Just 'let's go' or something like that?"

"You would always do that. You never shrank from anything. Even at the very end, you laughed. I thought it was brave."

_Edgar didn't think so_. Later that night, in the midst of celebrating with enough alcohol to flood the Serpent Trench, a very intoxicated Edgar had complained about how he was the only person in human history whose little brother had embarrassed them in front of God. "I dunno. It's not like I spent a long time thinking about it. It's just true."

"But that's special too. None of us know what's right all the time, but you would always know what's true. When I started thinking like that, too, I could see who I am as...me, not just someone else's reflection of myself. I think that's a lot to learn, even if it doesn't sound like very much."

"It sounds like plenty. I know how hard it was for me to ever stop being just an heir, or some potential political threat. Training with Master Duncan was a big part of learning to really identify myself.

"I know what it's like. I'm glad I could've been part of that for you."

Terra tilted up to look at him, her expression playful. "You'd be just as glad to be a part of stopping fights and shoveling fertilizer?"

"You know I am," he said, completely serious even as he zipped up her jacket so she was nothing more than a pair of annoyed green eyes glaring furiously at him from behind a scrunched-up fur hood.

**ooo**

Terra noticed it was harder and harder for Sabin to leave Mobliz with each subsequent trip, due in part to the increasingly heavy kids that would cling to his leg. She listened as he assured everyone he wouldn't be gone for more than a month, promised that he'd share any funny stories that happened along the way, and absolutely swore that he would come back with ample quantities of chocolate. After all the goodbyes had been exchanged (and an oath of good behavior extracted from Vale), she walked with him to the very end of the village.

"So it's just you against the lions for a while now," he laughed.

"I have three years of experience doing this! I think I know how."

"You sure do. Just don't go overboard, okay?"

"I've learned my lesson. And if you see him, tell Setzer he should get Edgar into trouble now, unless royal protocol endorses a king who's occupied with personal things." She sighed, thinking of the wonderful upper room in the top of Castle Figaro and the way Edgar had confided in her of his own loneliness. "He should have some fun of his own before the big day."

_"_I'll do that. You have fun, too. I'll be back soon, and I don't know when you'll..."

"Today at lunchtime." Terra had stayed up late thinking of the best possible way to say it, but in the end she'd decided she would tell them in the same way she'd first told them about all her old friends.

"Great, thanks. If that's, uh..." He scratched his head, the telltale sign that he was a little unsure of himself. "I'll be home soon, so---"

She could tell he hadn't been expecting her to grab him by both stubbly cheeks and kiss him goodbye, which was what made it so tremendously entertaining. Sabin just shook his head at her.

"...you're really something else."

"Do you mind?"

"_No_," he said emphatically, and demonstrated the commitment to his belief on this point. "A-anyway, I'll be home before you know it. As hard as it'll be, it's nothing we can't handle, right?"

"That's right!" Terra remembered a slogan Setzer had volunteered for the Returners so many years before. "We might not know what the job is, but we get it done!"

He laughed again, waved one last time to everyone watching back at the house, and left Mobliz.

**ooo**

**E P I L O G O S**

**ooo**

If there had been a port on the south side of the Serpent Road, Sabin could've been there in half the time. He would've been more than willing to swim it if not for the freezing temperatures, and none of the trees in the forests were fit for making rafts. With no viable shortcuts, he hurried to Albrook as fast as the weather (and his legs) would permit.

He was passing through the central continent one particularly sunny afternoon when he encountered a heavyset, balding man in hiking gear. Sabin nodded politely as he went past, and the man said by way of acknowledgement:

"God be with you on all your paths."

Sabin whirled around. "And also at your homes," he said.

The man turned to stare at him. His tiny eyes went wide with amazement. "A member of the order?"

"Yes, Father...ah..."

"Bartok, thank you. I hope you'll forgive me and my rather poor condition, but I stopped the traveling work after I became an abbot. Pitiful though it is, I'm only out now because I'm on my way home. I was called to give last rites to a great man up north."

_Great man..._ It was harder to be detached when he knew so many people in so many places. "If you don't mind my asking, who was he, Father?"

"Ah, he didn't give me the privilege of his real name. He didn't even call for me at all; I was only there to bless the body. In life, I knew him as a bitter man who had sought death and failed, but in his crippled condition somehow had prestige enough to acquire a great deal of wealth. I don't believe he ever cared for any of it, though. He had requested that his money be given to a young artist he had apparently doted upon. Still, I'm told he was thankful to die at last."

Sabin immediately recalled the man who had given Relm such a generous donation for her work. If so, why, and what would it mean for Strago's plans? There was no time to question the abbot now, and it didn't seem as though he knew anything more. Perhaps Relm would be able to tell him something when they met again.

They talked a bit more before exchanging goodbyes and going their separate ways. Although the conversation was brief, it gave Sabin plenty to think about. The Bandit King was certainly not the first eccentric to be enchanted with Relm's work, and couldn't possibly be the last. Would she decide she didn't need any supervision? It was very likely he would arrive in Thamasa with Strago still alive and well. What if Strago saw the incredible opportunities for his granddaughter and changed his mind?

He was still mulling over these things when he stopped for a quick meal in Albrook. Unfortunately, any potential for progress with his thoughts was blugeoned to death with the arrival of a loud courier and his entire gilded entourage. Sabin wondered if he just ought to stay otu of all bars altogether for everybody else's sake.

"I beg your pardon!" the courier announced. "By royal decree of His Majesty King Edgar, my company is to seek out every place of public meeting along our route until our recipient is found!"

Sabin jumped up out of pure instinct, paying no attention the pitcher of beer that fell over. "Edgar?" he repeated, his voice shaking. "What's Edgar want?"

"That's His Royal Highness to you, you cur---"

"That's _my brother_," he snapped back, both out of heightened stress and reawakened resentment for an etiquette he had always despised. He resisted the urge to throw something at everyone who gasped theatrically at this new revelation. "What does he want? Who does he want? Is it for me?"

"Y-Your Royal Highness...!"

"I don't care! What's the news from Edgar?"

"Forgive me, Your Royal Highness---er, ah, Prince Sabin Figaro---"

"Wait a minute!" screeched a new, different voice. Standing in the doorway was a gasping, frantic-looking young man. He tried to push past the royal attendants, but suddenly found himself blocked by a swarm of spears. "Wait, wait, don't! No! I have a very urgent message for Sabin Figaro, and I was told not to stop anywhere until I found him!"

"That's His Royal Highness to you," the courier said again, pleased to have found someone on whom he could successfully use the line.

"Hey, come on! I haven't slept since I got to the mainland! They said this was a really urgent message and my life depended on it."

"Excuse me, but I was speaking to His Royal Highness---"

"But I came all the way from Thamasa!"

Sabin took a deep breath. Even though his first reaction had been cold-blooded panic, now he was beginning to dread that he knew exactly what was going to be said. "Well, go on," he demanded. The anticipation was palpable. "I don't care who goes first. Just---just tell me! What is it?"

**The End**

* * *

Many thanks. Please review (and it's still not too late to do a review per chapter!). If you missed the story's hot, sexy yaoi subplot, or you just want to be in on the other inside jokes, go to the website listed on my profile for a special surprise.

Again, thank you for everything.


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